


Til Death Do Us Part (Revision 2)

by MarshmallowBirb



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-06-06
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowBirb/pseuds/MarshmallowBirb
Summary: Deemed too powerful for the Human Realm, Ichigo is sequestered in Soul Society after defeating Aizen. Ten years later, one of his human friends dies and now both Ichigo and Orihime must reckon with their mistakes, heartaches, and shortcomings in order to move forward together.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> I began this fic about 8 years ago, and I am slowly but surely working towards its completion! This is mostly reposted from FFnet, with a few minor tweaks and changes here and there. For the most part, the fic assumes TYBW didn't happen, although some of the changes from that arc wound up happening anyway. This fic started as a sort of riff on themes that were ubiquitous in fandom at the time, but I hope that after the series' completion they would have gone extinct entirely. With that context in mind, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

As Ichigo left the senkaimon, the edges of his shihakusho flapping in the wind, he looked down at the streets far below him.  
  
This was his hometown, Karakura-cho. He hadn't been back for any real length of time for the past ten years. On Central 46's orders, he'd been sequestered in Soul Society, almost directly upon the ending of the wars. He wasn't allowed to say goodbye to anyone. He wasn't allowed to send word to anyone. Oh, his father knew; he knew he'd been informed. But he hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to his sisters, to Chad, to Orihime, to Ishida, to Urahara, to anybody. His body lapsed into a coma and was later cremated in the traditional style. For all intents and purposes, it was now as if he'd never existed. Kurosaki Ichigo was dead.  
  
They hadn't been _bad_ to him, necessarily. Oh sure, they'd destroyed his life. He was bitter about that beyond words. All of the things promised to him as a human teenager - high school graduation, college, a career, watching his sisters grow up, a girlfriend, maybe even a wife - all of those things had been stolen from him. In some cases, those things had even been given to someone else.  
  
But he still had Renji and Rukia, Rangiku and Toushirou, Eleventh Division and all their friends. He'd made more friends - Momo, Shunsui, the men in Division Five, even Nanao to some extent. They had helped him adjust and dulled some of that pain of separation. But they couldn't take it away entirely.  
  
So here he was, ten years after he'd left, in for yet another short visit during which he wasn't given time or leave to contact the people he'd left behind. Here he was, watching the city streets below, cars passing below like ants, confident none of the passersby could see him. Here he was, wanting to punch the buzzards in Central 46 in their wrinkled old faces for what was probably the millionth time.  
  
The real reason he was here now was to perform a konso. In truth, it was a stolen assignment. All he knew was that it had been intercepted for him and that it was urgent he perform it before anyone else do it. He wasn't given any more information. He assumed there wasn't time for a full briefing, and since when do konso require briefing anyway? So he'd taken it, even though he was busy, even though it was a menial task that anyone fresh out of the Academy could do. Hell, didn't Academy students even perform konso? He'd ask Momo next time he got a chance.  
  
As he descended towards the coordinates on his Soul Pager, he saw it. An accident, single car, surrounded by onlookers and ambulances. He couldn't see the body; it had already been bagged and loaded into the ambulance. It was odd, though. The car's driver's side door was open and there was a suited businessman nearly in hysterics as he spoke to the police officer taking notes beside him. Even though Ichigo couldn't properly hear him, he could imagine that what he was describing was the deceased running in front of his car. Ichigo only hoped it wasn't a small child; those were the most depressing. As he landed behind the thick crowd, his sandaled feet padding softly on the sidewalk, the scene of the accident vanished behind the sea of their backs.  
  
As he looked around for the soul he had to send to Soul Society, though, he felt a familiar reiatsu. It was soft and gentle, and if he hadn't been right upon her at the moment, he'd probably have missed her. His heart froze in his throat; he hadn't seen her in ten years. He hadn't gone to her wedding, even though Rukia had encouraged him to. He didn't think he'd have been able to bear watching her walk down the aisle with another man. He wasn't even sure he was welcome there. What if he found out she hadn't missed him at all? Before he had been pulled away by Soul Society, he was sure he'd be her boyfriend when everything was all over. Even after he'd been pulled away, he'd nursed a weak but persistent hope that he'd be able to come back for her, he'd be able to finally see her again and set things right the first chance he got. Hell, maybe there would even be something between them again. But when he heard news of her engagement and subsequent marriage five years later, he couldn't help but feel betrayed.  
  
Something changed within Ichigo then, and his friends noticed it. When Rukia came to tell him what the wedding was like - how the convention hall they'd held it in was, how many (or in this case, few) people were there, how the reception was, what was served, how the bride looked, how she'd asked after him - he barely moved from his desk. He hardly showed any sign that he'd heard her at all, applying his seal to paper after paper. Eventually, she went away and left him to his work.  
  
It was days before he even spoke to anyone in more than 'yes'es and 'no's or, more commonly, non-committal grunts, and weeks before he was even seen outside his office. In all honesty, he still hadn't recovered, all these years later. He'd lost something precious to him then - a hope, a precious image - and there was no way to replace it now. She was someone else's wife. She'd moved on with her life, a life in the real world that didn't include him anymore.  
  
He would bear it, though. He'd put on a hard mask and do his damn job and then he'd go back to Soul Society and tell Rangiku to get him so wasted he would forget he'd even visited. She of all people would understand his need to drink himself into oblivion after this. As he weeded his way through the crowd to get to the accident, he steeled himself. He hoped against hope that she wouldn't notice him and that he'd be able to just pass by without attracting her attention. But as he drew closer to the scene of the accident, her reiatsu only got stronger. And finally, at the edge of the crowd, he saw her.  
  
Her red hair fell in a straight wave down her back, just like he remembered it. She had her hands folded behind her back, delicate fingers curling against her long, pale skirt. He figured she might have come out to heal the wounded, but upon seeing the crowd, decided not to discharge her powers. As he drew up behind her, towards the accident, he looked away, unable to keep his eyes on that nostalgic image for more than a few seconds.  
  
"Hi, Kurosaki-kun," she said softly. He could tell by her voice that she hadn't turned towards him. It was a voice that he hadn't forgotten, even in the past ten years. He sometimes still heard it even in his dreams, calling for him. But it sounded different now - tired, weak, anemic, like she was trying to force a shadow of her smile into her voice.  
  
Ichigo fought the urge to run, to turn right around and go back to Soul Society, konso be damned. But he couldn't. He knew he had to answer her greeting. He had to keep his voice firmly in check and not let his feelings show through it. He was a man now, dammit. This sort of thing happened to other guys all the time.  
  
"Hey, In-- Ishida...san." He had never been able to get used to thinking of her as an Ishida, as anything other than the person he knew in high school. So he had tried to scrub all the resentment out of his voice at her new name. He thought bitterly that he'd probably failed at that, too.  
  
Strangely enough, though, she suppressed a small, strangled giggle. He thought it sounded different than it used to. Like her voice, it was cloudy, overcast with strain. This time, though, there was something else peeking through. Genuine happiness? Hysteria?  
  
"Not... Not anymore," she replied, a little more brightly this time. Ichigo's eyebrow shot up unbidden. What did she mean? Had they divorced? Rukia and Rangiku hadn't told him that. They had to have known he would want to know _that_ of all things. Maybe they didn't want to get his hopes up before it was finalized? There was no way they wouldn't have known.  
  
Oddly enough, he couldn't even feel bad for his former friend in this instance. No, instead he felt his heart beat again for the first time in five years. It was hope, just a tiny spark; it was something he thought had died and would never be rekindled. But now it threatened to blaze up and engulf him.  
  
"Not... anymore?" he echoed, his mouth too dry to do anything other than echo her. Finally, he thought he could look at her again.  
  
Her face looked serene, more mature than she had in high school. Her eyes were sadder, staring out at the accident blankly, but were still just as lovely as he'd remembered them. The hairpins were there as well, although they didn't sparkle like they used to. As he watched her mouth stretch into a wide grin, the kind he used to see on her every day in class, he thought perhaps her mood had lightened.  
  
"I guess I'm just really clumsy today," she said with a nervous laugh. Before Ichigo could wonder what she meant, he heard a tiny clinking sound, like the chime of metal on metal. It had been a long time since he'd heard that sound, and when he looked down to her hand, it was exactly what he feared it might be.  
  
There, attached to her large bosom and dangling from her slender, pale fingers, were the remains of her broken chain of fate.  
  
Ishida Orihime was dead.

 


	2. Western Gate

* * *

**Thirty-seven minutes ago**

_Ichigo looked up at the sound of his office door sliding open. He had been filing his usual paperwork - leave chits, variance reports, acquisition forms - when he was interrupted by the sound of the door and the smell of cigarette smoke. His eye twitched in annoyance; he'd lost track of the times he'd berated the only smoker he knew in Soul Society about his nasty habit._

_"Akon, what the hell did I tell you about smoking in our offices?" Ichigo growled across his desk. The third seat of Twelfth Division favored him with a cheeky grin for his trouble, not bothering to remove the noxious cancer stick._

_"Look, Kurosaki," he mumbled around the cigarette, "We really don't have time for this today."_

_"Oh, I got all the time in the world," Ichigo said with a sarcastic smirk, propping his jaw against his fist. He drummed his fingers against his desk in impatience, waiting for his rude guest to explain himself._

_"Actually, you don't," Akon corrected him, pulling a slip of paper out of his lab coat, "I have something I think you'll be interested in." Handing the slip to Ichigo, the horned scientist folded his arms across his chest and waited._

_"Coordinates?" Ichigo asked, raising an eyebrow, "What about 'em?" Akon bowed his head, scuffing his toe against the nice, polished floor in Ichigo's office._

_"It's for a konso," Akon said succinctly. Ichigo shrugged; he didn't have time to run around stamping ghost foreheads today, he had real work to do._

_"What's that got to do with me?" He asked flatly, letting the small slip of paper flutter to the desk, "You know I don't have time for konso. And I'd probably need clearance for it anyway."_

_"You'll want to make time for that one, preferably as soon as possible," Akon said with a knowing smirk, but when Ichigo's expression didn't change, his normal disinterested look returned. "Look, I'll be straight with you. As soon as I saw that, I brought it to you. You absolutely_ don't want _my Captain or Vice Captain to get their hands on that soul." Now, Ichigo's eyebrows were practically flying into his hair; what could possibly be so special about this soul that would pique Kurotsuchi's interest?_

_Whatever it was, Ichigo had a bad feeling about it._

**Thirty-seven minutes later**

Ichigo realized his earlier assessment of the situation had been incorrect. He didn't have a bad feeling about it - he had a _very_ bad feeling about it. It was the same feeling one got while watching a performer stick their hand into an alligator's mouth.

Standing before him was the spirit of his high school crush, who also just so happened to have married one of his best friends a good five years ago. As if this wasn't bad enough, Ichigo now realized exactly why Akon had given him this assignment instead of passing it on to his boss. Kurotsuchi had never failed to make Ichigo aware of his disdain for him, nor had he ever bothered to hide his borderline-perverse interest in Inoue Orihime and her spiritual powers.

_'Scratch that,'_ Ichigo silently rebuked himself, 'Ishida _Orihime.'_

"Is something the matter, Kurosaki-kun?" The disembodied spirit asked from behind a strained smile, "You look like you just bit down on a lemon..."

"It's nothing, Ishida-san," he quickly mumbled, watching as her face took on a sadder hue.

"Inoue," she chided him firmly, "Please call me Inoue. Like... Like you used to." Ichigo stared at her in puzzlement. What was this all about? Was it just nostalgia? Why did she sound kind of sad? Well, he figured she was probably sad because she'd just _died_ , but the name thing was still a little weird. Either way, that was her choice.

"Sure thing, Inoue," he replied softly. She favored him with a watery smile in return.

But now came the hard part. What was he to do with her, now that she was dead? Obviously she had to go to Soul Society, but what then? Eventually, Kurotsuchi would figure out she was there and come after her - she _did_ still have those hairpins in her hair, after all. And even if he didn't, Ichigo was loathe to let her wander around Rukongai by herself; he was confident she'd be fine in the upper districts, but what if she got assigned to the 80th district? He could always call on his cousins in the Shiba family, but he wasn't really sure if he wanted to subject Orihime to Kuukaku's wrath on a daily basis (to say nothing of Ganjuu).

And there was also a part of him that wanted her to stay with him, too, although he'd be loathe to say that out loud. She was still another man's wife, after all, and Ichigo was keenly aware that she would probably feel awkward if he stayed too close to her.

Really, that left him with one immediate option, at least until he could check and see if she could be enrolled into the shinigami academy.

"What are you thinking about, Kurosaki-kun?" Orihime suddenly asked, shaking Ichigo out of his stupor. He realized he must have been silent for longer than he'd thought he had, for now Orihime was peering at him with a look of genuine concern.

"Huh?" He replied, shaking off his torpor, "I-It's nothing, Inoue. Look, once I do this konso on you, I need you to follow my instructions, alright?" Orihime looked quite lucid, so he continued.

"I'll be taking the senkaimon back to Soul Society, so I can't go back the same way as you. When you arrive, you'll be at a way station of sorts. They'll give you a numbered ticket that'll assign you to a district where you're supposed to live from here on out. You with me so far?"

Orihime silently nodded her understanding, indicating that it was safe for Ichigo to continue.

"When the shinigami give you that number, _don't go_. I want you to wait for me by the Western Gate, the one Jidanbo guards. You remember where that's at, right?"

"U-Uhn," Orihime confirmed, a puzzled look on her face, "But what if the shinigami get mad at me for not going?" Ichigo's face looked as though he'd never considered this possibility before.

"If they try to force you, you can get Jidanbo," he said thoughtfully. He paused for a beat, and then: "Or you could tell them I gave you permission, that'll shut 'em up." He gave Orihime a cocky grin for reassurance, one he felt like he hadn't worn in years. In fact, the act of smiling even made his face ache a bit.

"Alright, Kurosaki-kun." Orihime returned his smile earnestly. It wasn't the one he remembered from ten years ago, by any stretch of the imagination. It was weak and felt tired, like she was only smiling to reassure him. Well, he could certainly relate to _that_ , so he decided not to pursue the topic.

"You ready?" He asked quietly, his tall figure leaning over the smaller woman, "I promise I'll be gentle." If Orihime noticed any double-entendre there, she didn't let on as though she did. Instead, she let her eyes drift shut as she lifted her face to him.

"I'm ready."

* * *

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

She was supposed to start all over again in Rukongai, far far away from everyone who'd ever known her. She would have a house of her own, just like Kuukaku, and maybe even have a little black cat like Yoruichi, or a rambunctious little pig like Bonnie. She would have a little garden with corn and tomatoes and watermelon in the summer, with a well on the edge of the morning glory patch. And she'd wake up every day and stretch her arms up toward the sun, free and happy, and dance barefoot on her lawn.

Well, none of that was in the picture now. Fate had seen fit to waylay her with probably the very last person she'd hoped to see. As soon as she'd laid eyes on Kurosaki Ichigo again, in those familiar black robes she remembered from so long ago, all those plans had crumbled to dust. And Orihime wasn't entirely sure if she was upset about that or not.

Sure, she knew the _right_ thing to do would be to remove herself from the picture as soon as possible. After all, he had Rukia and all his shinigami friends now; her presence would be more of a burden than anything. She wasn't needed here, and hadn't been for many years.

Even though she knew it was the right thing to do, the sight of her old crush's face, the sound of his voice, and his scent, all beckoned her to stay. Orihime silently cursed her traitorous heart, the one that was begging her to stay and see what he wanted. She found herself unable to protest his directions, even though her heart ached. What could he possibly want her to meet back up with him for? Wasn't his job done?

Thoughts snapping back to the present, Orihime regarded the slip of paper in her hand - district 73, Kuroito. The name sounded ominous, but she was sure it wasn't that bad. She briefly considered going on into the district, but just couldn't bring herself to - Ichigo would be really hurt if she did. But could she really face what she suspected awaited her when he arrived?

"Hey, newbie!" One of the shinigami orderlies barked at her, "Stop daydreaming and get a move on! You're gonna miss your transport!" She had been afraid of this.

"I-I'm sorry!" She stammered nervously, giving a short bow, "I'm waiting on someone. I can't go yet." The attendant didn't look too pleased by this revelation. He crossed his arms across his chest with a snort.

"Just because you got a shitty ticket doesn't mean you get to stall," the shinigami brusquely informed her, "And if you're waiting on a family member, they ain't comin' for ya." Orihime shook her head fervently. She hoped this shinigami would just leave her alone; it had been literally years since she'd last used her powers, and she wasn't at all sure how well she'd be able to defend herself if it came down to it.

"It's not that," she protested, "Kurosaki-kun told me to wait for him by the Western Gate..." The shinigami stopped for a second before bursting out into laughter and turning to get his partner's attention.

"Check it out, Hijiri!" He said, his voice a jeer, "This chick says she's waiting on Kurosaki!" The shinigami named Hijiri could barely contain his mirth.

"Seriously?" He asked somewhat gleefully, "That ice queen? Didn't our captain beat his ass back in the day?"

"I heard he made him his bitch!" The original shinigami replied with a broad grin, "Only thing that saved him was that freaky mask of his!"

That comment struck a chord within Orihime. How dare they talk about Ichigo like that? How many times had he saved Soul Society and the people in it by now? She wasn't exactly sure, but even once was impressive.

"Don't talk about Kurosaki-kun like that," she said quietly, her fists trembling at her side.

"Pffth, what're you gonna do if we do?" The first shinigami sneered at her. He had obviously failed to immediately notice the gigantic reiatsu looming behind her at the moment.

"Talk about me like what?" The voice came from behind Orihime through gritted teeth, "If I find out you assholes have given Inoue any trouble..." They immediately took the hint and snapped their jaws shut.

"We weren't giving her any trouble!" Hijiri quickly said with a nervous smile. Ichigo's nostrils flared; Orihime wondered how much he'd heard and if he was trying to intimidate them on purpose.

"Good," Ichigo said down his nose at them, "I'd hate to let Byakuya know his guys were being jerk-asses to Inoue." This seemed to have the desired effect; the two men may not have respected Ichigo, but they definitely weren't about to cross their boss.

"Y-Yes, sir!" They said in unison. Orihime blinked up at the tense look Ichigo was directing at them before he turned his scowl to her.

"C'mon, Inoue," he started, turning towards Seireitei, "We've wasted enough time on these guys." Orihime nodded and turned to follow him as he moved in his intended direction.

"What a prick," the first shinigami muttered as soon as the two were out of earshot.

"At least he's got good taste in women," the one named Hijiri commented, his voice awestruck.

Ichigo and Orihime walked towards the Western Gate in silence, the only sounds being the soft padding of Ichigo's waraji and Orihime's flats against the dry grass.

"I thought you were going to the gate," Ichigo finally said, breaking the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," Orihime apologized softly, "I wasn't fast enough. I made you wait." She was certain he was angry with her now. All he'd asked her to do was to go to the Western Gate, and she'd already screwed that up.

"Made me wait?" Ichigo asked incredulously, "You made me _worry_ is what you did! I thought something happened to you!" Orihime felt her cheeks burn with shame; even in death, she was utterly incompetent! She felt the tell-tale prickle of tears just behind her sinuses. Hadn't she cried enough for one lifetime and beyond? And now she was about to cry in front of Ichigo, of all people! After not having seen him for ten years, the first thing she was going to do was cry!

She could no longer fight the feelings of helplessness and incompetence as silent tears coursed down Orihime's cheeks. She tried not to make a sound that would alert Ichigo to her distress, but as he stopped suddenly and turned to face her, she realized he could probably feel her unstable reiatsu anyway. Even worse, the look of abject horror he adopted upon seeing her tear-stained face made her actually begin to sob.

"Inoue, what?" Ichigo stood before her, shell-shocked. His face went pale and his fingers twitched as though they wanted very badly to do something and he wouldn't let them.

"I-I'm sorry!" Orihime blurted out, bringing her hands to her face to try and hide her tears, "N-Now you're angry at me and I only j-just got here-!"

If Orihime had been able to see Ichigo's face from behind her hands, she'd have seen a look of agony. He didn't stall much longer, though; Orihime stopped sobbing when she felt something brush her cheek.

She looked up to see Ichigo using the hem of his sleeve to wipe her face clean, his face still twisted into a grimace.

"I'm not mad at you, Inoue," he intoned softly, "So stop crying, alright? It's... It's _awkward_." She took her hands from her face and snapped to attention, some tears still escaping the corners of her eyes.

"I-I won't do it again!" She swore, her voice still shaky and her bottom lip trembling from the effort. Ichigo sighed.

"I didn't say you couldn't cry if you needed to," Ichigo explained, "I just don't want to be the one to cause it, you know?" Orihime nodded vigorously, not trusting her voice. She couldn't remember a time someone had told her it was _okay_ to cry.

They continued on, reaching their destination after a few more minutes of walking. Orihime watched as Jidanbo hailed Ichigo in a cheery voice. She thought back to the time she'd healed his massive arm and wondered if he remembered her at all. It seemed like it had happened in another lifetime entirely. When was the last time she'd actually healed anyone, come to think of it? She found she couldn't recall.

"And who might this lovely young lady be?" He finally addressed her from where she was standing behind Ichigo, deep in thought. As soon as she realized he was talking to her, she snapped her head up and stepped from behind Ichigo.

"O-Oh, I'm-"

But before she could finish her sentence, Jidanbo's eyes grew as large as buckets as he recognized the lady in front of him.

"Goodness me!" He bellowed, dropping to his knees and bowing to the ground, "It's really you! How many years has it been? Please forgive this lowly gatekeeper for not recognizing you sooner, milady!" Orihime blushed from the attention.

"A-Ah, that's not necessary-!" She protested, waving her hands before her chest and smiling nervously.

"Jeez, Jidanbo," Ichigo sighed, cleaning one ear with his pinky, "Cut the theatrics already, you're embarrassing her!" The giant stood again, but his face had broken out into a broad grin.

"My apologies, Inoue-san," he said happily, "It's just that it's been years since I last saw you!" Orihime realized that he'd used her maiden name and not her married one; had she forgotten to send him a notification? She hadn't sent that many out, and she was dead now anyway, so it was just as well to not bother with correcting him. Besides, Uryuu usually did it for her, and he wasn't here now, either. She smiled happily up at the giant in response.

"I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch!" Orihime said sincerely, "I'll correct that from now on!" At this, Jidanbo's expression grew perplexed.

"From now on?" He asked, scratching his large head, "Aren't you just here for a visit?" Ichigo blew out a huff of air as he scuffed the dirt.

"She's _dead_ , you boob!" Ichigo announced in exasperation, "She's staying permanently!" Now it was Orihime's turn to look puzzled.

"I am?"

Ichigo straightened up at her query, a light blush creeping across his cheeks.

"Well, as long as you want, anyway," he corrected himself. Orihime seemed to accept this with a smile.

"I'm sorry to hear about your passing," Jidanbo ventured carefully, a slightly uncomfortable look on his face. She beamed up at him in return.

"I'm not!" She chirped, realizing a second too late that what she'd just said sounded incredibly off, "What I mean is, I'm looking forward to staying here from now on, so it's totally okay!" Both Jidanbo and Ichigo looked a bit bewildered, so Orihime simply rubbed her head and favored them with a sheepish smile.

"Anyway," Ichigo continued after another few seconds of awkward silence, "We gotta get going. I promise you can come back and chat later, Inoue." Then, turning to their gigantic friend: "Go ahead and open it up, Jidanbo." The giant gave Ichigo a grave nod before grabbing the bottom of the gate and hefting it up to his shoulder.

As soon as the gate crashed down behind them, Ichigo wordlessly began walking as Orihime followed. She had to walk quickly to keep up with his long strides, peeking shyly up at him as she did so. She had more than a few questions she wanted to ask him.

"A-Ano, Kurosaki-kun?" She finally ventured, "Where are we going?" He glanced down at her and slowed his pace so they could talk.

"Back to our division's barracks," he replied as though it was the simplest thing in the world, "I can put you up there for a little while, at least until you get on your feet." Orihime gave him a puzzled look.

"On my feet?" She asked, genuinely curious, "Are you sure it's okay, though? I'm not really a shinigami..."

"Until you decide if you're gonna take the entrance exam to the Academy, I guess," he said thoughtfully, scratching the tiny stubble on his chin.

_'When did he get stubble?'_ Orihime thought, oddly intrigued by it.

"Oh," she responded dully, hardly registering that he hadn't answered her other question. As they walked, though, another question presented itself to her, one that had truthfully gnawed at her for years.

"Umm," she began hesitantly, not quite sure how to phrase it, "How is Kuchiki-san?" Her voice was laced with trepidation; she hoped Ichigo didn't notice.

"You mean Rukia, right?" He asked, his tone suggesting he'd felt the need to make sure she wasn't asking after Byakuya for some odd reason. Orihime nodded, worrying her bottom lip as she waited on his answer

"She's alright, I guess," he said with a shrug, "Same as always, really. She usually either hangs out in her division or with Renji or her brother." Orihime gave him a puzzled look; maybe he meant that was what she did when they weren't together?

"You mean when she's not with you?" Orihime ventured. Her voice was light and innocently inquisitive, but she was actually speaking around a lump in her throat. Worse, she could feel those tears prickling her eyesockets again. Suddenly, she didn't want to be here anymore. Maybe she should've listened to those two shinigami after all.

"Eh?" Ichigo answered, confusion tinting his voice, "I actually don't see her that much anymore. We're both too busy with our divisions to hang out like teenagers, really." Orihime blinked away her building tears, feeling that old, seizing pain in her chest abate somewhat. Who knew even spirits could have heartache like that?

"If you wanted to see her, I could call her over later?" Ichigo ventured, his eyebrow quirking as he looked down at her. Orihime hoped he hadn't noticed her momentary, fading distress.

"U-Uhn!" She replied with only a bit of forced happiness this time, "I haven't seen her in a long time!" _'A really long time,'_ Orihime finished mentally. She'd fallen out of contact with most of her shinigami friends shortly after the wedding. What was the point of letting them see her face anymore? They'd only worry.

"Well, we're here," Ichigo said, breaking the awkward, gloomy silence as he came to a stop in front the divisional barracks. Orihime looked up from where the dust swirled around Ichigo's waraji to see the diamond above the entranceway to the long, low building. The large, black kanji for the number five looked back down at her.

"Fifth Division?" Orihime asked, "Isn't that the division Aizen..." Ichigo snorted, tilting his chin away from Orihime in disdain.

"We don't say that name around here," he informed her brusquely, "It upsets Momo." Orihime blinked, recalling vaguely the frail girl she'd last seen almost ten years ago. Maybe, because they lived longer, hurts took longer for shinigami to heal?

_'Maybe that's not exclusive to shinigami,'_ she thought ruefully.

"C'mon," Ichigo said, motioning up the steps with his head, "Come inside. I'll show you around."

He led her through the dining hall and the kitchens, showing her where their meals were prepared. He introduced her to the cooks, three stout old ladies who took an immediate liking to Orihime and did their best to make her feel comfortable. Then he led her through the laundry room and showed her the giant washtubs they used. Even though Ichigo admitted they were out of date to human world standards, Orihime thought they were quaint and charming. She even climbed inside one to see just how big it was.

They went through the training grounds, some of the barracks (she was to get her own room in the female wing after he finished showing her around), the linen issue, and finally the divisional offices.

"This is where Momo and our third seat, Hanbei, work," he said, pointing to their desks, each aligned parallel with a wall of the long room. There were other desks, bookshelves, filing cabinets, even a coffee maker; all of the trappings of a traditional office, really, only slightly more antiquated. Everything but the coffee maker seemed to have come directly from the Taisho era. As for the little brewing contraption, Orihime thought it looked strikingly out of place in the old-fashioned office. She reasoned that it couldn't have been more than a year old at most.

Before she could comment on it, Ichigo began walking towards a sliding door at the northern end of the room.

"And back here is the Captain's Office," he said, sliding the door open and walking inside. Orihime followed him, jaw agape.

"K-Kurosaki-kun!" She flailed, sliding the door shut behind them, "You... You can't just walk in like that, can you?" Ichigo threw her a puzzled look.

"Why not?" He asked, rummaging through one of the drawers for something. Orihime wondered if it was possible for her to die again, this time of a heart attack. If his captain caught them in here, they'd be in so much trouble!

"Won't... Won't your captain be mad?" She asked, her voice taking on a nervous timbre, "You just walked right in and started going through their things!" Ichigo finally found the white cloth he was looking for and pulled it out of the drawer. As he pushed his arms through the cut-off sleeve holes, Orihime could clearly see the kanji for five silk-screened on the back, with the kanji for one hand-painted above it. It spelled "Ichigo" with numbers.

"Dummy," he chided her warmly, turning to face her from behind the large, wooden desk, "The captain doesn't care because I _am_ the captain."


	3. Old Friends and New Offices

* * *

Orihime stood in awe as Ichigo slipped on his Captain's haori.

"You're... You're the Captain? Of Fifth Division?" She asked hesitantly, the words sounding odd on her tongue. Ichigo cocked an eyebrow and folded his arms, looking unimpressed with her question.

"Don't sound so surprised or anything," he said, sarcasm lacing his voice. Orihime favored him with a wobbly smile.

"Oh, it's... It's not that I'm surprised," she stammered, her little hands flailing in front of her, "Well, I mean, I _am_ , but what I mean is that I didn't realize it before!"

Even though she was smiling and chuckling nervously, Orihime felt her heart twist in her chest. Ichigo was a Captain. It felt once again like he was leaving her behind to be a part of a world she could never join. In ten years, he had become a Captain of the Gotei 13; what had she done? Dropped out of college and cooked progressively more boring food? She once again felt wholly inadequate to even be near him.

"No, it's alright," Ichigo said with a sigh, "This position is basically compensation anyway." Now it was Orihime's turn to give him a curious look.

"Compensation? For what?" Ichigo looked at her as though she'd gone mad.

"What do you mean, 'for what'?" Ichigo asked with a hint of irritation, before taking a breath and looking down, "Right, you... You don't know. Sorry. I forgot." Orihime looked thoroughly ashamed to have upset him, but he bravely soldiered on anyway.

"Central 46 sequestered me here after everything was over," Ichigo muttered bitterly, "Giving me the Captainship was just a political move to make it look like my service to Soul Society was valued and to keep me out of trouble. I guess the old guys thought paperwork would make me settle down." Orihime's eyes and mouth grew progressively wider as he spoke.

"Then you... didn't want to stay in Soul Society after everything? With... with your family..?" Orihime asked, her voice holding a wavering, tremulous pitch.

"Tch, no," Ichigo scoffed, "My home was back in Karakura. My whole life was there. That was the place I belonged. But my body's been dead a while now. I can't go back."

"Then you..." She began again, her voice shaking, "You didn't run away to be with Kuchiki-san?" Ichigo looked as though he might fall over.

"With... _That_ midget?!" He bellowed, unable to contain the incredulity in his voice, "Why would I-? Why would you-? What on earth would give you that idea!?"

Orihime, meanwhile, was riding a turbulent rollercoaster of emotions while Ichigo sputtered. She knew she should be happy she was mistaken all this time. When she had first thought Ichigo and her shinigami friend had run away together ten years prior, she had forced herself to smile and bear it and pretend to be happy for them. But the truth was, she'd felt worthless and inferior, completely unworthy of love. She had also felt betrayed and ignored. She tried not to blame Rukia - perhaps she hadn't known that Orihime had been nursing a deep crush on Ichigo for the better part of a year - but it still hurt even to see the black-haired shinigami whenever she came to Earth. And eventually, she just stopped coming around at all. Just like everyone else.

So by rights, she should have felt relieved, even ecstatic, that she had been mistaken all this time. And it was true that some part of her did. Ichigo had never wanted to stay in Soul Society and Rukia had never betrayed her; that alone was cause for joy. But the larger part of her felt utterly stupid and pathetic. If she had just believed in Ichigo and Rukia, her life wouldn't have been as worthless and painful as it had been for the past ten years. All this pain could have been avoided and things would never have gotten to this point.

"I-Inoue, what?" Ichigo said, his sputtered ranting having been replaced with awkward concern, "D-Don't cry! Please! I-I just don't feel that way about Rukia, it's nothing to get upset over!"

Well, that certainly didn't have the effect Ichigo clearly intended it to have. Instead, it caused Orihime to visibly sob. And that only led to more heavily awkward attempts to console her.

"Captain? What's going on? I heard cryi-"

The sentence hung in mid-air as the black-haired girl with her hair tied into a bun stepped inside the office, leaving the door wide open behind her. "I-Isn't that-?"

"Yeah," Ichigo said quietly, removing his haori, "Shut the door behind you, Momo." He draped the white coat over the crying woman's shoulders as she sniffled, trying to erase the evidence of her embarrassing outburst. Even though Orihime's nose was now stopped up from crying, she could still smell Ichigo on his coat. Before she knew it, though, the shorter woman was standing right in front of her with a gentle smile on her face.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Orihime-san," she said with a small bow, "I'm Hinamori Momo, Kurosaki-taichou's lieutenant. Would you like me to make you some hot tea?" Orihime was so distracted by the girl's cheerful nature and straight-forward speech that she forgot to cry.

"U-Uhn!" She said with a nod, earning her another smile.

"Alright, I'll be right back," Momo said happily, turning back toward the door.

"Don't use the coffee maker this time," Ichigo groused, "It's only for coffee, it doesn't make tea!" Orihime watched in fascination as the girl turned to stick her tongue out at her Captain.

"I'm just going to use it to heat the water, Captain!" She fussed, "It's easier than boiling a tea kettle!" Ichigo crossed his arms and huffed as the door slid shut.

"I swear," he grumbled, "Last time she made tea, my coffee tasted like matcha for a week afterwards." Orihime looked up at him in amusement, most of her earlier distress gone.

"She seems very nice," she informed him. Ichigo sighed and fluffed his hair with his hand.

"She is," he agreed wearily, "Momo's like a mom to us all, really. She just gets fussy at me when I don't do things her way. Reminds me of Yuzu, really." Orihime allowed a small smile to cross her face; she hadn't seen Ichigo's sisters since the wedding.

"I can see the resemblance," she said quietly, watching curiously as Ichigo started to pull a chair around from the side of the room for her. "What are you doing?"

"Sit," he commanded, bumping the back of her knees with the chair and forcing her to comply, "If she comes back and you're still standing, she'll nag my ear off."

"I heard that!" Momo's faint voice came from the other side of the wall, causing Ichigo to flinch. Orihime was simply dumbfounded. They seemed so much like a cute little family that she couldn't help but giggle.

"Feeling better?" Ichigo asked, drawing Orihime's attention. He was kneeling before her and smiling now, one of those rare, gentle smiles that she loved so dearly when they were teenagers. She returned his expression with a nod as she drew his haori closer around her.

"Yes," she answered softly, "Thank you. I-I'm sorry I keep crying everywhere, it's just that... Today has been kind of stressful..." Ichigo gave her a dumbfounded look.

"You just _died_ ," he said matter-of-factly, " _Most_ people find that stressful." Orihime couldn't help but bring a hand to her mouth as a choked giggle escaped her. She had forgotten how easily Ichigo could distract her from her problems.

While they waited, Orihime found her hand held firmly between Ichigo's warm, large ones. He didn't even ask if he could, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He seemed to be studying her little hand, looking at the thin, pale skin and the blue veins underneath. She guessed that even though she was now dead, her heart still beat just like it ever did.

Ichigo didn't look up at her, though. He seemed completely absorbed in the hands in her lap. His head was even hung low, shading his eyes from sight. That was okay by her; Orihime didn't particularly feel like lifting her head anyway. The strangest part, though, was that the silence seemed perfectly comfortable.

But the prolonged silence also made Orihime realize something. For the first time, Orihime really realized that Ichigo was hurting as much as she was, maybe even more. He'd never asked to be stuck here. He didn't even really want to be a Captain. Who _would_ want all that responsibility right out of high school? For all intents and purposes, Soul Society had killed him at sixteen. And she was so caught up in her own problems that she failed to notice it immediately. A sudden wave of guilt overtook her for her momentary blindness.

The silence was broken by Momo returning with a tray of tea and snacks. Ichigo immediately let go of Orihime's hand, snapping his arms to his side and wobbling awkwardly. She noted the dusting of pink across his nose and idly wondered if Momo would tease him if she caught him holding her hand.

"Here we go!" The black-haired girl chirped happily, setting a cup down in front of Orihime on the desk, "I brought some shortbread cookies and green tea mochi, too. Do you want to try some?"

"A-Ah, thank you," Orihime said softly, reaching for the tea, "Yes, please." As she brought the cup to her lips, Ichigo stood and walked to the other side of the desk.

"Here, set it on this when you're done," Ichigo said, placing a sheaf of paperwork on the desk where Orihime's tea had just sat.

"Captain!" Momo scolded, putting her little fists on her hips, "Don't just use your paperwork as a coaster!" Ichigo snorted and folded his arms.

"It's not like First Division cares," he grunted, sitting across from Orihime and leaning back in his chair. Orihime watched the bickering duo in amusement. "Besides, this desk is brand new. I don't want rings on it."

Momo looked decidedly unimpressed by Ichigo's reasoning, and a second later she was out the door, hands on hips. Ichigo stood and leaned over his desk, annoyed.

"O-Oi, get back here!" He barked, "I need you to do something for me!" Momo returned a few seconds later, clicking a coaster down on Ichigo's desk in front of Orihime.

"There," she said firmly, "Now, what did you need?"

* * *

"I-Is this really okay?" Orihime asked trepidatiously.

"At least he's using his own account this time instead of the Divisional fund," Momo answered, ducking her head with a small laugh.

"Kurosaki-kun is using his own money for this?" Orihime returned in fascination. Momo shrugged.

"I guess he figures this is personal and not Division related," she said, looking in the shop windows as they passed by.

Orihime followed Momo's eyes to the shop mannequins, dressed in outrageously expensive kimono. She didn't think she'd ever owned anything that expensive in her life, nor ever would.

"M-Momo-san," Orihime whispered, ignoring the looks her living world clothing was drawing from the passing shinigami and tugging on Momo's sleeve, "Are you sure we're in the right area of town? Everything here looks so... Expensive."

"It is a bit pricey, isn't it?" She answered, looking again at the written address in her hand - yep, definitely First Ward - and then looking back up at the glamorous kimono in the window before them. "I'm sure this is the place, though. He must be going all out..."

Orihime blushed at that thought. She didn't understand why Ichigo hadn't just given her a shihakushou like the ones the shinigami wore; that was sufficient to not get her stared at, right? Instead, he'd sent Momo shopping with her in one of the most expensive districts in Seireitei. Orihime felt so inadequate next to the fashionably dressed shinigami women walking up and down the street that she simply wanted to hide.

"Ori... Orihime-chan?!"

Orihime's head swung up to see who'd called her just in time for her face to be buried in the exposed flesh between the taller woman's open collar.

"Orihime-chan, it's really you!" Rangiku said, smooshing Orihime to her breasts, "How long has it been? Four years? Five? Oh my goodness, how are you? Let me look at you!" As she drew back to get a good look at the smaller red-haired woman, Momo shook her head.

"She's dead, Rangiku," Momo said evenly, "She just got here." Rangiku's face registered her mild surprise immediately.

"Where's your Captain?" Rangiku asked, perhaps a bit too quickly, "He'd definitely want to see _her_!" Orihime gave Rangiku a puzzled look, but she was more concerned with her conversation with Momo; she still hadn't released Orihime all the way, though.

"He sent us here to find her some clothes," Momo informed her, showing her Ichigo's silver Captain's charge card. Rangiku immediately snatched it out of Momo's grasp to examine it.

"You mean Stingy-taichou is actually springing for something for once?" She asked, fascinated, "He doesn't even take me out drinking more than once a month!" Momo cast a quick look in Orihime's direction before snatching the card back from Rangiku.

"Don't talk about that right now," Momo said shortly, causing Orihime to cock her head at her tone. Rangiku simply smiled and began to lead Orihime down the street by her hand.

"Alright, alright," she placated the smaller woman, "Ne, Orihime-chan, let's go in here! They cater to bigger girls like us!"

As Orihime was pulled along behind the blonde, she caught a glimpse of Momo's worried expression while she followed.

* * *

"What the hell is this?!"

Orihime flinched and looked down at the stack of boxes in her hands. She couldn't meet Ichigo's angry gaze. It was alright, though; Rangiku was more than happy to meet it for her.

"I thought we were supposed to buy her some clothes!" Rangiku happily supplied, oblivious to Ichigo's ire, "You _obviously_ wanted her to look nice if you sent her to the First Ward to shop!"

"I wanted her to look nice," Ichigo countered, "I didn't want you to drain my bank account to do it!"

Momo had abandoned them as soon as they'd entered the office. She was fully aware of the kind of chewing out Rangiku was in for. Still, Orihime wished she hadn't left. She was shaking like a leaf; she felt awful about spending too much and hadn't wanted to face Ichigo's wrath without her.

"Honestly," Rangiku sighed, "Don't be so cheap! Orihime-chan is going to be the best-dressed girl in Seireitei!"

"I'm sorry!" Orihime blurted out, bowing over the packages, "I-I'll return everything!"

This served to stop the argument dead in its tracks. Both Ichigo and Rangiku turned to look at Orihime, who still hadn't lifted her head from her bow. If she had looked up, she'd have seen that both of them looked quite surprised.

"No, you... You don't have to return anything, Inoue," Ichigo finally said, stunned, "It's not your fault." His eyebrows rose as he watched her peek timidly up at him from beneath her thick lashes. Slowly, she unfurled from her deep bow.

"Now look what you did, Ichigo!" Rangiku scolded him, "You scared her!" Ichigo slammed his hands on his desk, his fury reignited.

"Who the hell's fault is that!?" He yelled, shaking the desk with his anger. Then, after a few calming breaths, he turned back to Orihime to address her again. "Get Momo to help you take your things to your room and get dressed. I want to see if they fit you."

Orihime bowed again, mumbling another thank you, before quickly excusing herself.

"Stop yelling in front of her," Rangiku hissed as soon as Orihime shut the door behind her.

"Why do you think I sent her out of the room?" Ichigo huffed, flopping into his chair and cradling his head in his hands. "She keeps crying over nothing and I don't know what to do! I wouldn't even know what to do if she was her normal, cheerful self!"

"What do you mean, you don't know what to do?" Rangiku asked harshly, leaning over Ichigo's desk and getting her feminine assets a bit too close to his face for his liking. "You still like her, don't you? Be a man and make a move!"

"She's married, Rangiku," he replied dully, looking up at her through spread fingers, "She's even married to a friend. That's wrong. It's cheating." Rangiku huffed and gave him an incredulous look as she put her hands on her hips.

"First of all," she said, "She's _dead_. Most people generally consider that the end of their marriage. Secondly, it's pretty obvious that Quincy didn't make her happy." Ichigo's brows knitted at that remark.

"Their marriage is none of my business," Ichigo replied shortly. He didn't even want to think about his two friends' marriage, much less the fact that he had fantasized about his friend's wife. Repeatedly.

"If you like her and she's here, then it's your business," Rangiku said, irritation evident in her voice, "Besides, you obviously only sent her to the First Ward to shop because you wanted to see her dressed up." Rangiku stood back and crossed her arms, satisfied with her conclusion. Ichigo, on the other hand, flushed and sputtered, completely unsettled by her keen observation.

"I sent her there because I thought it'd make her happy!" He replied shakily, "Girls like shopping in expensive stores, right?" This did nothing to erase the smug look on Rangiku's face.

"Yet you let me spend everything on your card on her and won't even ask her to return anything," Rangiku nodded to herself, satisfied with her own logic, "If a man actually spent several hundred thousand kan on me at once, even I might be tempted to settle down!"

At the mention of all the money she'd spent, Ichigo went through several different colors, cycling through pale white to peach, to pink, to sunburnt, before finally settling on bright, cherry red.

"That's... That's like six months' salary!" Ichigo practically squawked, nearly hyperventilating as he stood. Rangiku looked unfazed.

"It's not like you ever actually spend anything, you cheapskate," she scolded, "Besides, if you want to win Orihime-chan back, you should be prepared to show her a good time."

"She's not greedy like _some_ women I could mention," Ichigo spat, leaning over his desk, "Besides, who said I'm trying to win her over?! I already told you, she's marri-"

"Right, right," Rangiku dismissed his protests with a wave of her hand, "Get back to me when you man up and grow a pair, Ichigo." And with that, she turned to leave a flabbergasted Ichigo to steam behind his desk.

"It's Kurosaki- _taichou_ to you, dammit," he yelled before continuing, "And if I see you borrowing so much as an obiage from her, I'll have Toushirou write you up!" _That_ stopped Rangiku in her tracks. She turned back to look at him, horror stricken.

"You wouldn't dare!" She cried, "Borrowing clothes is a female tradition!" Ichigo allowed an evil smirk to stretch across his face.

"Oh, I dare alright," he said, happy that he'd figured out some of Rangiku's motivation from her little shopping spree. "Now get out of here before I tell him what you did anyway."

Rangiku pouted before heading out the door, nearly running into Orihime and Momo on the way out.

"So cruel!" She cried before turning to Orihime, "Orihime-chan, maybe you can redeem him! The Gotei 13 would owe you a debt of gratitude!" Rangiku tossed a pleased smirk over her shoulder as she slipped out, happy with the sputtering she'd induced in Ichigo. Orihime just blushed and looked at her toes.

But as soon as Ichigo took stock of Orihime's appearance, all sputtering stopped. Momo had helped her into a pale yellow yukata decorated with pink flowers, an informal powder blue tie cinching the outfit closed around her waist. She was even wearing a cute little kanzashi on one side of her hair. The cheerful pattern and light colors, combined with the loose cascade of hair falling over her shoulder, made her look younger than she should have, reminding Ichigo intensely of their high school days. More than that, he realized almost immediately that it was flashier than what a married woman should be wearing.

Ichigo silently cursed Rangiku. She must have picked this yukata out on purpose, knowing it would make Orihime look young, pretty, and available. That meddling woman was going to be the death of him; he already felt light-headed and like his face was on fire.

"This was the simplest thing we got," Momo said with a touch of regret, "I'm not exactly sure if it's something she'd want to wear every day, though..."

"I-It's fine," Ichigo said, his mouth stuffed with cotton, "It's pretty flashy, but... It... Looks good on you, Inoue." Ichigo mentally kicked himself as she peeked up at him shyly.

"Th-Thank you, Kurosaki-kun."

Part of Ichigo knew he could get used to Orihime walking around his barracks dressed like that. The other, more rational part of him, however, knew that he was liable to die prematurely of simple unresolved sexual tension.


	4. In Debt

* * *

The next few days passed slowly and painfully for Ichigo. The somewhat peaceful existence he'd carved out for himself among Fifth Division was being turned upside down, and the culprit was none other than Orihime herself.

It wasn't that she meant to be disruptive, or that she was causing trouble. On the contrary, she was quite pleasant in everything she did. And that only served to drive Ichigo further mad.

He'd had to personally see to getting her a few yukata to wear that were less flashy than what Rangiku had picked out for her. The act of figuring out her size with the shop girl alone was enough to almost make Ichigo's blood flow backward. But he'd managed to do it, earning a grateful smile from Orihime herself for his efforts. At least now she could walk around without looking like some kind of socialite, or worse, a loaded noble's wife.

Worse than that, though, he'd had to go into debt to get her those plain yukata. The irony didn't escape him; he'd gone broke buying the most extravagant clothing Seireitei had to offer, but then had to borrow money for plain clothes. The worst part, though, was who he'd had to borrow the money from.

"Since when do you need money, Ichigo?" Rukia had asked the morning he'd visited her, "I thought you always saved your salary?" Ichigo rubbed the short hair at the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I _do_ ," he confirmed grumpily, "But a certain someone decided to spend every kan I had when she got ahold of my card." Rukia looked at him curiously.

"You let Matsumoto have your card?" she asked skeptically, "Were you drunk again?" Ichigo flushed brightly.

"No!" he protested, "She stopped Momo while she was on an errand for me!" Rukia raised an eyebrow.

"To buy women's clothing?" At this, Ichigo realized he'd been stalling. What for? Was it the weird way Orihime had kept asking him about Rukia? Or maybe he just didn't want to deal with the ribbing Rukia would surely give him.

"Inoue needed clothes," he muttered, his cheeks pinking up, "And Rangiku bought her the most expensive things she could find, so now I'm broke." Rukia's face lit up.

"Orihime is here?" she asked, clearly eager to see her old friend, "Why didn't you say so? Wait... Inoue? Did she divorce Ishida?" Ichigo sighed. Leave it to Rukia to miss the obvious.

"She's dead, Rukia," he said flatly, "I thought you saw her whenever you went to the human world? Wouldn't you know if she'd gotten divorced?" Rukia simply looked puzzled.

"I haven't seen her since she got married, Ichigo," she said, shaking her head, "Every time I tried to meet with her, she was busy. Eventually, I guess we just fell out of touch." This surprised Ichigo, although he tried not to let it show.

"Anyway, she wants to be called Inoue now, and it's easier for me to remember anyway," Ichigo pressed forward, "But she's here now, and she needs clothes that don't look like she's going to a state function. Can I please borrow a couple thousand kan? You know I'm good for it."

"May I come over and see her?" Ichigo snorted.

"You're a Vice Captain," he shrugged, "You can go wherever you want. But yes, you can come see her. I think she'd like that." He folded his arms over his chest, clearly uncomfortable. What did Rukia think he was - Orihime's jailer? She distracted him from his indignance by fishing out her card.

"What do you say?" she asked expectantly.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed at her as he ground out a "please" between gritted teeth.

"Please...?" Oh, for the love of all that was holy. She was really pushing it now.

"Please, Kuchiki-fukutaichou," he grumbled darkly, snatching the card away from her, "Grace me with your benevolence and allow this humble idiot to borrow from you." Rukia smirked triumphantly at him.

"Alright," she finally agreed, "I'll be over to see her shortly. Don't worry about paying me back - consider it a present for Orihime."

As if that hadn't been mortifying enough, the shopping was even worse. Being a Captain had its disadvantages, namely that everyone in Seireitei knew his face and name. Naturally, the shop girl was curious who the clothes were for, and if the long looks he got were any indication, so was everyone else around him. He cut off any weird speculation by loudly informing her that the clothes were a gift for his sister.

Still, he was fairly sure he saw one of the Bulletin's photographers out of the corner of his eye when he was leaving the shop. He would have to have a word with Hisagi about that next time he turned his column in for the newspaper.

All of that wasn't even touching on the process of trying to figure out Orihime's proper size in front of the shop girl. The less said about that embarrassment, the better.

When he returned from shopping, he was greeted by the sounds of cheery girl talk coming from the general direction of his offices, where he assumed Rukia and Orihime were catching up with each other. After his little shopping trip, he wanted no part of whatever humiliation Rukia might have had planned for him, and wisely steered clear until she was ready to go. On her way out, he returned her card.

"Is that all you got?" she asked upon examining his purchases against his wishes, "They're rather plain, although I suppose the craftsmanship isn't bad." Ichigo just sighed.

"She'll look fine in them," he said, nearing his wit's end, "That's the important part. She doesn't need to look like a movie star." Of course, he thought Orihime would look good in a potato sack, but he prudently left that thought unspoken.

Orihime herself was thrilled with the new clothes. Ichigo knew her well enough to know that she didn't even remotely share Rangiku's taste in clothing and that her own tastes ran more towards the practical and quirky than the extravagant. Still, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy seeing her dressed up.

The clothes aside, there were other ways her presence was disruptive. She insisted upon earning her keep, her idea of which tended to insert her into nearly everything Ichigo did. She decided to help with the laundry, which resulted in her walking in on him half-dressed one morning. She helped the cooks with breakfast, which was actually blessedly normal and oddly free from any strange ingredients. She tidied his office, which resulted in a scolding from Momo for letting it get dirty in the first place. She had even taken his complaint about Momo's use of the coffeemaker to heart and started making him coffee in the mornings. Everywhere he looked, she was there, busying herself.

Worse still, his division had taken notice of her. He was well aware that there were more than a few whispers about what Orihime was doing in their barracks; several of his troops even remembered her as one of the ryoka from a decade ago that had invaded Soul Society with him. He knew they'd already drawn their own conclusions as to why she was there, and he was sure he didn't want to hear any of them.

Even so, there was no animosity towards her from any of his division. Or if there had been, they were being very careful to keep it out of Ichigo's presence. To the contrary, everyone seemed to love her. Perhaps a bit too much, in Ichigo's opinion, as he'd already caught too many of his men openly staring at her breasts or her backside when she wasn't paying attention. Those men had mysteriously wound up with latrine duty for the following week, with no small bit of devilish glee on Ichigo's part.

To try and discourage some of the ogling, Ichigo had finally snapped and told a few of them that she was married. In hindsight, it really hadn't had quite the effect he'd hoped for. Instead of giving Orihime some space, it doubled the questions about her; specifically, Ichigo's division wanted to know what their captain's relationship with this married woman was.

Ichigo was simply forcibly reminded of being in high school again. Some of the men in his division were worse gossips than teenaged girls.

Either way, Ichigo hadn't had a moment's peace since she died.

* * *

Orihime hadn't allowed herself a moment's rest since she died. Upon arriving in Fifth Division, she had been determined to repay Ichigo's kindness for keeping her and spending his money on her. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden on anyone anymore, so she'd immediately gone into overdrive trying to straighten his offices.

Even though the Gotei 13 was a military organization, the barracks seemed too cluttered and disorganized for her tastes. Not only that, but they were too drab and sparsely decorated, too. After six years of not being able to dictate how her living space looked, Orihime had immediately seized the opportunity to decorate her new room with any little thing she could scavenge. It had quickly been splashed with color from cut flowers she'd gathered growing wild on the division's grounds, pieces of the kimono Rangiku had bought with her, a high-quality lacquered fan she had been pressed to buy, ribbons, particularly pretty rocks, and a couple stuffed animals Momo had brought her.

This influence quickly spread beyond her room and into the barracks at large. Ichigo's office was the first casualty; it was cleaned from top to bottom, decorated with candy dishes in various places, and made to smell of citrus and pine. Next came the mess hall, which suddenly found itself furnished with fresh centerpieces and napkins folded into the shapes of little bunnies. Then she went further out onto the grounds, and started cultivating a little flower garden of her own. Slowly but surely, Orihime was making herself at home.

The Fifth Division troops were fairly happy with the changes. According to them, their captain was usually a sullen, grumpy man with a foul mouth and an even fouler temper. They were mostly loyal to him anyway, as he did go to bat for them and try to make their jobs as easy as possible. But they all had a healthy respect for his temper nonetheless.

To them, the sudden change in their captain's demeanor, as well as the change in the general atmosphere of the division, was confusing but welcome. A majority of them remembered Aizen's stint as their captain and his affable nature fondly; the other Captains had never let his betrayal become public knowledge, nor the circumstances of his disappearance, so to the rank and file his memory was left untarnished. And it was quite easy for them to tell that Ichigo's heart wasn't really in his work. So to see him slowly lightening up and even occasionally _smiling_ was a bit of a shock to the division, to say the least.

The cause of his unconscious change in demeanor was also readily apparent. In the week since she'd arrived, the division had slowly taken notice of Orihime until she'd found herself in the unwitting role of something of a minor celebrity. To her, it just seemed as if they hardly ever got guests and were just grateful for something out of the ordinary. She didn't understand why all their attention agitated Ichigo so.

"I see morale has certainly improved around here," Rukia commented over coffee when she visited Orihime for the first time at the end of the week. Orihime smiled shyly behind her coffee cup.

"Is it really that different?" she asked sheepishly. The smaller, black-haired woman nodded as she peered out of the Captain's office at the activity outside, her round, violet eyes surveying the suddenly cheerful nature of the division.

"They must like you," she commented with a smile, "Or at least they like that you've been distracting Ichigo." Orihime's eyebrows pursed at this comment.

"Do they not like him?" she asked, suddenly concerned. On top of everything else he'd been through, she didn't want to hear that his division didn't get along with him. Rukia simply chuckled.

"It's not that," she said warmly, "It's just that he's gruff and harsh sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. They're all quite fond of each other, in an odd way." Orihime cocked her head to the side, trying to understand their relationship.

"Like a love/hate relationship?" she asked. Rukia smiled.

"Something like that."

In the course of the conversation, Orihime listened to Rukia talk about her own job as Vice Captain (really, substitute Captain) of Thirteenth Division. She loved her job immensely, and was quite proud to be wearing the same arm band that her mentor (and Ichigo's cousin), Shiba Kaien, had also worn. As she listened, Orihime realized that the atmosphere in Thirteenth Division sounded different than the one in Fifth, largely owing to the kindly personality of their captain. It seemed like a division where everyone strove to be friends with one another.

This also had the unintended effect of making Orihime feel quite silly for thinking Rukia had been interested in Ichigo before she got here. According to Rukia, the red-headed captain was so stand-offish and ill-tempered that even his good looks did little to convince the women of Seireitei to give him a second glance. Of course he still had a few fans - all of the Captains did - but his attitude did little to endear him to those around him.

This naturally led to the subject of their long separation, which Orihime was even less eager to delve into. Even though she waved it off breezily by saying she had simply been too busy helping Uryuu with his schoolwork for med school to see anybody, the truth was that she hadn't wanted Rukia, or any of her other friends, to see her unhappy. She was much more content to talk to them over the phone, where her cheerful front was easier to maintain. And eventually, they just stopped calling all together.

The urge to push Rukia away had been the strongest, though. The last time she'd seen her had been at her wedding. She remembered thinking her face would crack with the strain of having to smile that much. It wasn't that she hated Rukia or anything like that. No, she simply felt her heart crack every time she looked at her and thought how happy she and Ichigo must have been together in Soul Society.

What she had failed to notice then, and their conversation now had made subtly clear, was the presence in Rukia's life of a certain other red-headed man. Orihime had always simply assumed that Renji had shown up to her wedding for Uryuu's sake, but now she realized that wasn't necessarily true. He'd likely actually gone to escort Rukia.

She came to realize that the two childhood friends spent most of their free time together now. Being her older brother's Vice Captain gave Renji a good excuse to hang around their family's estate, and Rukia being a Vice Captain gave her a good excuse to talk to him under the guise of professional interest.

Even stranger was that Orihime realized the two weren't actually even officially dating. Oh, there was definitely interest there - she could tell by the slight blush Rukia had whenever she spoke of him and the tiniest bit of hesitation she gave to some of her words. But neither of them seemed to have made any kind of move yet. She vaguely wondered why.

As nice as it was to reconnect with Rukia, eventually she had to go. Orihime was somewhat grateful for her departure; she still felt incredibly guilty for misjudging her for all those years, and was far too ashamed to admit to it. The visit had been fun, but tiring. She sighed with a blush, also grateful that Rukia had managed to waylay Ichigo on the way in the door to give her a free moment to collect herself.

As soon as she emerged from his office, she was confronted with the man himself, red-faced and silent and holding an arm full of bags and boxes. They looked slightly disheveled, as though someone had been rummaging through them, but Orihime didn't pay much mind to that.

"What are those?" she asked curiously. Ichigo looked off to the side, unable to meet her eyes.

"Err," he stammered, "More... more clothes." Orihime's eyebrows pursed.

"Kurosaki-kun!" she scolded him, "Didn't you already spend all of your money on clothes for me? It's too much! You should take them back!" Ichigo looked taken aback for a moment before fixing her with a determined expression.

"You need something to wear that doesn't make you look like you fell off of a runway," he said firmly, "Besides, you're going to ruin those fancy clothes if you keep cleaning in them." Orihime felt her cheeks pink up at his admonition.

"But... But where did you get the money?" she asked hesitantly, still unsure if she should accept his generosity. Ichigo refused to meet her eyes again.

"Rukia... said it was a present from her," he mumbled, "And I picked them out." Orihime's concerned expression melted into one of humble gratitude. After she had turned her back on Rukia's friendship all those years ago, Rukia had never turned her back on her after all. Her smile wavered as a few tears found their way through.

"Th-Thank you, Kurosaki-kun," she sniffled, smiling broadly through her tears, "I'm grateful. To you, and to Rukia-chan." Ichigo simply froze at her tears, clearly confused as to what to do.

"O-Oi, don't cry!" he said, suppressing the urge to flail his arms, "Here, try these on to make sure I got the right size." Orihime blinked to clear her eyes, surveying the packages. She shyly opened the one on top and peered inside.

"Oh," she breathed, "These are so much better! Thank you, Kurosaki-kun!" She repressed the urge to hug him; the fancy kimonos Rangiku had bought her were certainly pretty, but they were also elaborate and fairly uncomfortable.

Ichigo slowly cracked a small smile in return. There was a warmth in this smile that Orihime recognized from when they were alive. It made her heart skip a beat.

He loaded her arms down with the packages and grinned as they made her wobble to accommodate them. Orihime looked shyly at him from over top of them.

"Do you want to see me in them?" she asked, looking up at him through thick lashes. There was a little bit of blush speckling his nose as his confident expression faltered.

"Err, you only need to try on the one you want to wear now," he said uncertainly, "They're all the same size." Orihime smiled regardless.

"Okay, Kurosaki-kun," she said happily, "I'll be right back."

Before Orihime could step toward her room, though, she was interrupted by Momo's rapid approach.

"Oh, Orihime-san!" she chirped, waving a hell butterfly perched firmly on her finger before her, "I'm glad I caught you!" Ichigo raised his eyebrow suspiciously.

"Momo, is that...?"

"It's a notification for the Shinigami Women's Association meeting this week," Momo said cheerfully. Orihime looked puzzled; they had meetings for female shinigami?

"They have a women's club here?" she asked, eager curiosity showing on her face. There had been a neighborhood women's association back in the human world, but meetings always left Orihime feeling a bit awkward and out of place. Maybe this one would be different? She'd always wanted to be part of a club and feel like she belonged.

Momo's expression lit up as she turned to Orihime. Both of them neatly ignored Ichigo's nauseous expression.

"Yes!" Momo happily offered, "Ise-san runs them, even though she's the Vice President of the club! Yachiru-chan is the President, so we always have lots of fun!" Ichigo couldn't hold back any more.

"Inoue, you don't really want to go," he said too quickly. Orihime favored him with a disappointed look. Uryuu hadn't liked her visiting the neighborhood women's association, either.

"Why not?" she asked innocently.

Ichigo felt slightly sea sick, and it showed in his expression. The last thing he wanted was for that Ise Nanao to start giving Orihime weird ideas. Her captain seemed to enjoy her stern attitude and her nagging; Ichigo simply wondered if the older man was insane or some kind of weird fetishist. Either way, he didn't want to think too deeply about their very obvious personal relationship.

To be perfectly clear, Ichigo and Nanao were friends, as far as those sorts of things went. They usually got along well enough professionally. But they had clashed just as often personally. She would often blame him if he was in the vicinity whenever she caught her captain doing something she didn't approve of. If Ichigo took Shunsui drinking with him the one night of the month he went, he'd always get an angry hell butterfly the next day, loudly informing him that the Captain Commander had been grounded or had passed out on his paperwork or had decided the office wastebasket was a urinal. And heaven forbid he tag along if Shunsui invited him; that somehow made the lectures _worse_.

Worse yet, she'd taught Momo a thing or two, as well. The younger woman was far from being the harsh taskmaster that Nanao was, but she wasn't above nagging him just like her. As the two were friends, it also wasn't uncommon for Momo to invite her over, where she could then personally disrupt Ichigo's day.

To say he didn't want or need Orihime picking up any of her habits was a bit of an understatement. Not only were they as different as night and day already, but Ichigo was quite taken with her personality as it was. He didn't want that to change.

"That's... That Ise..." He stammered, trying not to offend Momo, and trying not to sound bitter or mean in front of Orihime. Momo simply rolled her eyes and dismissed the butterfly.

"He doesn't get along with Ise-san, Orihime-chan," she said flatly, "He's probably afraid she'll teach you how to put him to work." Ichigo sputtered in indignation.

"I already work!" he protested, "And I get along with her fine, as long as she's not nagging me!" Momo looked unmoved.

"She nags you for a reason, Captain," she pointed out bluntly. Ichigo felt like he was on the verge of a tantrum when Orihime spoke up.

"I'd still like to go," Orihime said softly with a smile, defusing the argument, "If you don't mind, Kurosaki-kun. It sounds like fun."

Ichigo sighed in defeat. Well, that was it. He'd lost. As he'd told Rukia earlier, he didn't decide where she could go and who she could see. So as much as he disliked it, she was going to go to the Shinigami Women's Association meeting.


	5. Worry

* * *

"And that concludes this week's business."

Orihime sat towards the end of the table, furthest away from the speaker. She watched wide-eyed while the sharp, black-haired lady conducted her business. Even though Yachiru was the stated president of the Shinigami Women's Association, Ise Nanao actually ran the meeting for all intents and purposes.

Orihime followed the serious woman with her eyes. She was awestruck at how efficient and in control the young shinigami seemed to be. Part of her wished she could have that much control over her life and circumstances. If she had, perhaps things never would have reached this point.

"Booby-tan!"

The cheerful voice knocked her out of her depressing reverie. Orihime looked down just in time to see Yachiru's pink head rocketing straight into her mid-section. She caught the small girl with a "woomph" as they collided, almost knocking them both to the floor. The little girl gave her a big, toothy grin as she looked up to Orihime's smiling face.

"Yachiru-chan!" Orihime exclaimed, giving the pink-haired girl a hug, "How have you been? I missed you!" The girl held up a bag of konpeito to Orihime's face.

"You got here at a good time, Booby-tan!" Yachiru chirped, settling on Orihime's lap with a bounce, "We just got our budget for the year, so now we can get lots and lots of candy!"

"Taichou! Please be serious!"

The black-haired woman marched over to the two long lost friends with a frustrated sigh. She looked down at them, adjusting her glasses and staring in disapproval.

"A-Ah, Ise-san!" Orihime said, a light blush coloring her cheeks. The smaller woman turned to her with raised eyebrows.

"Good evening, Orihime-san," the Vice President acknowledged her, "I'm glad you could make it. Taichou, you can't be serious about the budget!"

Orihime watched with a small smile as Yachiru and Nanao fussed at each other over whether or not to spend the year's budget on chocolate rabbits or konpeito. It was sweet and lively and made her feel like she was back in high school and surrounded by friends again.

As she looked around, Orihime saw the other women enjoying themselves. Soi Fong and the third seat from Rukia's division, Kiyone, were picking food from the buffet table and fussing at each other. Her taller sister from Fourth Division, Isane, was carrying on a polite conversation with Momo. Rukia was doodling something in her sketchbook. And Rangiku...

"Guess who, Orihime-chan!"

Orihime's eyes were suddenly covered as Rangiku grabbed her from behind. She found each of her shoulders supporting the weight of Rangiku's breasts as she leaned over her. Even without being able to see her, Orihime's smile grew broad as she turned in her seat to try and face the older woman.

"Rangiku-san!" she exclaimed happily as Rangiku released her face. She saw the blonde's expression light up at her words.

"Uhooo, good guess, Orihime-chan!" she gushed, "You're so smart!" Orihime blushed and chuckled quietly as Yachiru stood up from her lap to address Rangiku.

"You'll smother her with those things, Ran-chan!" the little girl scolded, reaching over and grabbing a handful of Rangiku's breasts as she lifted them off Orihime's shoulders. Rangiku looked only mildly annoyed while Orihime continued to blush madly.

"Yachiru-chan!" Rangiku huffed, "Hasn't Zaraki-taichou taught you not to grab other women there?" Yachiru looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment.

"Well," Yachiru said, blinking her red eyes at Rangiku slowly, "Ken-chan did say that he wouldn't mind grabbing your boobies sometime!" Orihime's face practically caught fire at Yachiru's innocent declaration. Rangiku simply looked like she was going to explode.

"Taichou!" Nanao gasped, steadying her glasses, "That is completely inappropriate!" Yachiru was undeterred.

"I thought it was funny!" the pink-haired girl exclaimed, "And they're fun to squish!" To demonstrate, she gave the blonde's breasts another big squeeze over Orihime's shoulders. Rangiku squealed angrily in response.

"Taichou."

Before a fight could break out with Orihime in the middle, a calm voice drew everyone's attention away from the little scuffle. Orihime looked up from the little girl in her lap to see a serene black-haired young woman staring back at her. Her hair was pulled into a braid behind her and her eyes were half-lidded, observing Orihime keenly. She held a round tray before her thighs, which were only half-covered by her short shihakushou.

"Refreshments have been served," the placid young woman continued. Yachiru hopped off Orihime's lap with a delighted squeal, leaving a puzzled redhead behind to stare after her amusedly. But since she hadn't been introduced to this girl before, she figured now would be as good a time as any to say hello.

"O-Oh, I don't think we've met before," Orihime said with a smile. The black-haired girl gave her an impassive blink.

"No," she replied simply, "We have not. I am Kurotsuchi Nemu. You are Ishida Orihime-san, correct?" Something about her tone of voice was unsettling, but Orihime put it aside for the time being.

"Not anymore," she corrected the other woman with no hint of regret, "It's just Inoue again now, since I'm dead." Nemu simply stared at her for a moment. Some imperceptible change took place, although Orihime was ignorant as to what it could be. So she smiled awkwardly, wondering if the other woman was actually going to say anything else.

"I see," was all she finally said, "Very well, Inoue-san. Welcome to the Shinigami Womens Association."

"A-Ah, thank you," Orihime stuttered uncertainly as Nemu turned to walk away.

"Don't mind her, Orihime-chan," Rangiku said from over her shoulder, "She's always like that. Probably comes from living with that awful father of hers, poor thing."

Orihime remembered the grotesque man with a small shudder. Still, she wasn't quite sure what to make of the other girl's strange behavior. Maybe she was just really socially awkward? Before she could think too hard about it, though, Yachiru returned with a sandwich in hand.

"Come on, Booby-tan!" the little girl exclaimed, "They brought egg sandwiches! Those are the best!" Forgetting her earlier apprehension, Orihime rose to follow her.

* * *

Ichigo knew pacing wasn't helping anything, but he just couldn't help it.

He couldn't sit still. He knew it shouldn't worry him, but this was the first time Orihime had been out of the barracks for more than a shopping trip. It made him uneasy for her to be gone so long. Worse still, she was with that Ise. He half-expected her to return and thwack him in the face with a book for not having his desk clean enough.

He wasn't sure why the prospect had him so worried. He knew Orihime was a sweet person and wasn't someone who'd just start nagging out of the blue. Sure she could be impressionable, but he knew there were outer limits to her behavior that she wouldn't cross. Maybe he just didn't entirely like the idea of her excluding him again after so many years apart.

That thought settled a blush on his cheeks. When did he get so possessive of another man's wife? Just the thought of her being married sent a groan through him as he clutched his head mid-stride. He could tell this whole affair was going to end badly.

"Yare yare," a voice floated in from the veranda of his quarters, "You look like you're going to wear a hole in your floor if you keep pacing like that." Ichigo stopped pacing and groaned again; he knew he would be getting an angry hell butterfly in the morning already.

"What is it, Kyouraku-san?" Ichigo said with just a hint of exasperation. The scruffy, pink-clad Captain Commander swooshed into the room from outside, sake jug and bowls in hand.

"I just figured you could use some company, that's all," came the airy reply, "I heard you were going to be on your own tonight and thought I'd stop by." He situated himself at Ichigo's low table, laying out each bowl and pouring some sake for each of them. Ichigo sighed and plopped down opposite the straw-hatted man. Shunsui wasn't the type of guy who'd leave someone be if he wanted something, so Ichigo knew it was pointless to try and resist. "Sake?"

Ichigo took the proffered bowl with a mumbled 'thanks' and downed it in one gulp.

"Go ahead and ask," he said, cheeks burning already as he set down the bowl, "I know you're curious." He was under no illusions about the nosy old man's reason for his visit.

"You wound me, Ichigo-kun!" Shunsui feigned offense before sipping his own bowl of sake, "I had just heard rumors you were housing a young lady of exceptional beauty in your division and wanted to see if they were true!" Ichigo reached for the sake and poured himself another bowl before quickly downing that one, too. Of course he'd go right for that topic. Even though he was married now, Shunsui was still very keen on at least noticing other women. If it bothered Nanao, she certainly never said anything where Ichigo could hear it.

"She's married, Kyouraku-san," Ichigo quickly stopped that conversation before it even started, "To a friend of mine. Besides that, she's way too young for you." Ichigo realized what he'd just said and amended it: "Even for your standards." The older shinigami faked distress at this point.

"I'm not that old," he practically pouted, "But I suppose that explains the pacing. I had just assumed it was your first time being separated from her." Ichigo's blush returned full-force. This old man was more observant than he let on.

"That has nothing to do with it," Ichigo blurted out, quicker than he probably should've, "I'm just worried about what your demon of a wife is teaching her!" Shunsui's eyebrow raised, but he took the distraction anyway. Ichigo figured he wouldn't be able to resist talking about his lieutenant, even if it was just to defend her honor.

"Now, now!" Shunsui said soothingly, "Nanao-chan won't tell her anything too bad! She wouldn't hurt a fly!" For some reason, Ichigo immediately pictured the thin woman using that enormous book of hers for a flyswatter. He poured himself another bowl, wondering if Orihime was rubbing off on him.

"Tell me that again in the morning, after she sends me another nastygram," he grumbled, taking care to actually sip this bowl instead of just gulping it down. Shunsui simply watched, pouring another for himself as well. After another few minutes of silence, the black-haired man finally spoke, making Ichigo wish he'd just stayed quiet.

"So," he said over his uplifted bowl, "what do you intend to do about her?" Ichigo had no illusions he might actually be referring to Nanao and not Orihime.

"Nothing," he muttered over his own bowl, "She's married to a friend, remember?" Shunsui lifted his chin for a little scratch as he thought.

"So?"

"So?!" Ichigo sputtered, his sake almost going down the wrong way, "So she's off-limits!" Shunsui's look grew devious.

"Didn't you know?" he mused, "Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, Ichigo-kun!" Ichigo nearly spit his sake out; instead, it went up his nose, causing him to cough and sputter.

"I-Inoue's not fruit!" he choked out. Shunsui looked mildly concerned, but not concerned enough to put his bowl down.

"Well, where is her husband?" Shunsui asked patiently. Ichigo thought he must know very well where he was to be asking that, but simply glared while he pounded his chest instead of pointing this out.

"Back in the human world," Ichigo croaked, "He's still alive." Shunsui's face lit up at this admission.

"Oh, so they're not married anymore!" he exclaimed. Ichigo groaned. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was already getting a headache.

"Just because she's here now doesn't mean she doesn't still love him," he murmured into his sake bowl, "Death doesn't mean her feelings have changed." Shunsui tsked and shook his head.

"Well, how is she acting?" he asked. Ichigo was suddenly dumbfounded. What kind of a question was that?

"What do you mean?" he grumbled, "What does that have to do with anything?" Shunsui looked at him in disbelief.

"It has everything to do with it!" Shunsui exclaimed with a laugh, reaching over to slap Ichigo on the back, "Is she happy here? Or does she mope around all day?" Ichigo blinked. Where was he going with this?

"Well, I..." Ichigo stammered, "I guess she's alright? She seemed kind of upset at first, crying and stuff, but now she's... pretty happy, I guess." Shunsui looked satisfied with that answer.

"See?" he said, "She's happy here! If she missed him, wouldn't she be more upset?" Ichigo wasn't impressed.

"Inoue's always happy," he grunted, "It doesn't mean anything. And there's nothing she can do now but wait for him to die, anyway. What use would moping be?" Shunsui gave him a look that could only be described as piteous.

"Well, have you asked her?" the older shinigami asked, "It's obvious you care for her." Ichigo looked down at his table in shame.

"Of course not," he said quietly, "I don't want her to feel pressured or weird or anything." The other man shook his head as he finished his bowl of sake.

"Don't wait too long, Ichigo-kun," he warned, "You already lost her once, didn't you?"

As much as he wanted to deny it, it was a bitter truth. And because of Renji and Rangiku's big mouths, it was fairly common knowledge among their circle of friends how badly he missed Orihime after his forced sequester in Soul Society had begun. Shunsui was no exception. He figured the older man had heard about Orihime's stay here in the same way he found out about his thwarted affection for her; through those same friends.

"Yeah," he finally sighed, refilling his bowl yet again.

"I don't think I need to tell you," Shunsui said, looking a little wistful, "but sometimes you only get one chance."

* * *

When Orihime finally got back to the barracks with Momo, it was all dark and still. It was well after bedtime, and the rest of the division was already all tucked in. Still, Orihime wanted to check on Ichigo.

He had seemed a bit nervous before she'd left. It hadn't gone unnoticed by her. She'd tried her best to reassure him, and he'd given her a small, nervous smile, but there was still that underlying anxiety. She wanted to reassure him one more time before bed, just to let him know everything had turned out fine.

But as she knocked on the frame of his door, she could hear nothing beyond it.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

When she received no answer, she slid the door open just wide enough to be able to see inside the dark room. She could make out a form bent over the low table in the middle of the room, the light from the moon outside illuminating the room and casting shadows over Ichigo's peacefully sleeping face. His head was pillowed on his arms and he was snoring softly. Orihime smiled to herself; when he was sleeping, he looked so young and carefree.

She padded over to the futon that Ichigo had already laid out, apparently before he'd passed out at his table, and picked up his blanket. Then she moved over to him, pulling the cover up over his shoulders. She crouched down next to him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead and smiled, suppressing a small giggle.

"You'll catch a cold like that," she whispered fondly. She lingered longer than she absolutely needed to, recalling a night far in the past when she'd leaned over him in a similar manner. And once again, she felt that same desire to just lean in and kiss him.

This time, though, instead of pulling away, she simply settled for gently kissing his temple. He huffed a little as her lips left his flesh, but other than that he didn't stir. She smiled warmly, hoping he wouldn't mind. And after another few moments of warmth, Orihime rose and went to close his veranda door.

"Goodnight, Kurosaki-kun."

* * *

All was still in the Fifth Division barracks. A few days had passed since Orihime's Womens Association meeting, and things had returned mostly to normal. Ichigo had been reassured that Orihime wouldn't turn into Nanao and Orihime had been happy with the socializing she'd gotten to do. And her happiness had picked up everyone's spirits, even Ichigo's. Of course, he'd still gotten an angry hell butterfly from Nanao the next morning, but that was to be expected.

Now, though, it was well after midnight in the barracks. All the shinigami were asleep in bed, lights having been out for a couple hours yet. The only sounds that could be heard were those of sleepy crickets and the occasional dog. And the waning moon cast pale light and shadows indiscriminately throughout the barracks wherever an open window would allow.

It was through one of these windows that a shadowy figure slid. It crawled silently along the floors, sticking to shadow where it could and moving quickly where it could not. It knew exactly where it was going and how to get there.

A few scant minutes later, it slid the door it was looking for along its frame, making a soft 'whooshing' noise. There, on a futon in the middle of the room was the target. She was asleep, breathing deeply and causing the blanket to move with the rise and fall of her chest. She made small noises as she breathed, little squeaky sighs that caused the shadow's eyes to narrow. In a few minutes, she would be completely silent forever.

Softly, the black-clad figure padded towards the futon on which lay Inoue Orihime, safely sleeping.


	6. The Needle

* * *

The shadow crept over the floor like ink, oozing toward the unmoving futon. It held a thin, sinister needle in one hand, light flickering off the metal like a star. That sliver of light moved onto the neck of the deeply sleeping redheaded woman. Eyes narrowed as the needle was positioned just right. Inoue Orihime deserved this, and just one little movement of muscle would finally give it to her.

Just as the neurons fired that would move the muscle that would bring Orihime total oblivion, they were brought to a screeching halt. An iron-like hand grasped the back of the intruder's kosode, yanking them back and away from their victim. They gasped silently as the needle flew from between pale fingers and rolled across the floor. They made not a single sound as they were pulled roughly from the room, then down the hall. The flaring spiritual pressure made it more than evident who had caught them.

Ichigo drug the intruder roughly through the hall, not caring if he injured them or not. Strangely, they seemed to go limp while he pulled them, almost like a human ragdoll. At least he assumed they were human; whoever they were, Ichigo didn't care enough to check. They were trying to stab Orihime with something that he had no doubt would've been deadly; they were a threat and would be dealt with as such.

Finally, the Captain reached the door of his office. It was still too early for Momo to be there, so they were assured privacy. Indeed, if he hadn't sensed an odd presence himself, he wouldn't have caught the intruder. Once the door was shut behind them, he slung the black-clad bundle into an office chair and glowered at it. Whoever they were, they were most likely female. The body was slight, clad in skin-tight black. The face was wrapped all around in black cloth, leaving nothing but a strip of flesh around the eyes visible. Her dull eyes regarded him impassively, making him even angrier. If he wasn't careful, he'd wake everyone in the division with his spiritual pressure alone.

"Who the hell are you, and what were you doing in Inoue's room?" he growled, leaning forward and caging the prisoner between his arms and the arms of the chair. Slowly, they lifted a slender hand and began unwrapping the black cloth they had used to cover their face and hair. As more of her face became visible, Ichigo realized who his intruder was with a start.

"Kurotsuchi?!"

Nemu looked up at Ichigo with what he supposed was determination. She had to have been pretty determined to sneak into Orihime's room at night, anyway. But upon seeing her face, Ichigo got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. If she had been trying to inject Orihime with something, it could range from harmless but annoying, to downright deadly.

"Yes," she replied evenly. "You may kill me if you wish. Father will create a replacement." The way she said it - so cold, so unfeeling - caused Ichigo to back up and glower at her from a standing position. Whatever she had been trying to do could not be good.

"Did he send you?" Ichigo growled. It was a dumb question, to be honest, and he realized it as soon as he said it. Of course Kurotsuchi had sent her. The crazy scientist had borne Ichigo a grudge at least since his time in Hueco Mundo, so this would obviously be the perfect way to get back at him for whatever perceived insult Ichigo had given him.

"No."

"Well, you can tell that clown-painted freak to st-" Ichigo drew up short, Nemu's denial finally registering in his mind. "What do you mean, no? Who sent you, then? Yachiru? Rangiku?" Was this some kind of Women's Association thing? Nemu simply stared at him, eyes unblinking.

"I am acting alone." Ichigo had never known Nemu to act by herself, and that seemed just the sort of thing her Captain would tell her to say. Ichigo folded his arms over his chest and glared at her. How stupid did she think he was?

"Don't feed me that garbage," he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "You've never done anything of your own free will." Did something change in Nemu's eyes? Whatever it was, it vanished as soon as Ichigo thought he saw it.

"Incorrect," she droned. "I have exercised free will before. I exercised it tonight." This was probably the most passion Ichigo had ever seen from Nemu. Something in the back of his mind made him suspect she might be telling the truth, but he knew he didn't have anything close to the whole story.

"This is just some experiment of your Captain's, isn't it?" he directly accused. It was the fastest way to find out what she was actually doing there.

"Father does not know I am here," she murmured. "He would rather have had Inoue Orihime's soul intact to run experiments with it." The matter-of-fact way she said it was like a bucket of ice water down Ichigo's back. She spoke of what he could only assume was destroying Orihime's soul so easily, like disposing of a sample in the lab.

"What was in that syringe?" Ichigo asked, almost dreading the answer. Nemu's face did not change when she answered.

"Reishi solvent," she said simply. Ichigo had heard of the stuff. Builders in Soul Society used it to clean up construction sites; it dissolved the left over reishi particles from building debris into the atmosphere. To inject it into a human soul would be to permanently destroy it, with no chance of reincarnation. The victim would simply dissolve and cease to be. Ironically, he thought the formula might actually have been derived from the energy of Quincy arrows.

"Why?" he choked the word out, his mouth dry. He thought he could understand the Kurotsuchis' desire to experiment on anything they came across, but this was clearly just murder. What could Nemu, of all people, feel so strongly about that she'd want to destroy someone's soul? Her face betrayed nothing as she answered.

"I despise her," Nemu replied softly. Now Ichigo was completely lost. He was aware that there was a certain type of girl in middle school that hated Orihime, but with Tatsuki's help, they had all been driven off by high school. How someone as devoid of emotion as Nemu could come to hate anyone, let alone someone as friendly as Orihime, was beyond comprehension.

"Enough to completely destroy her soul?" Ichigo asked. If his voice came out a little harsher than he'd intended, he really didn't care. What Nemu had tried to do deserved worse, anyway.

"Yes," she said, showing no shame. "You may not think me capable, but I have felt emotions: fear, sorrow, joy, gratitude, regret, hatred... love. But the very strongest of these have been bound to only one person." Ichigo was utterly bewildered. Since when did someone who, as far as he knew, was little more than a puppet experience those things? Even more, experience them deeply enough to be willing to murder and die for them?

"Your Captain, right?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"No," Nemu answered without hesitation. "Ishida Uryuu is the only man who has been able to make me feel." Ichigo's eyes popped open. That was the last thing he ever expected to hear. Since when did Nemu know Uryuu? More than that, it brought this attack into startling clarity. She was trying to kill Orihime because she took the man Nemu loved away from her. It was revenge, pure and simple.

Ichigo wanted to laugh, if only to keep from going insane. How completely pointless. From the way Orihime had been acting, as though she was not in love with Uryuu at all, it would have been the ultimate waste. The irony in his own situation was not lost on him, either.

The hushed sound of his office door, however, was.

"I'm sorry," Orihime whispered from behind him. He turned, startled, to see her standing before the closed office door, deadly needle in hand. She was addressing Nemu, face as pale as snow. The black-haired woman simply regarded her impassively.

"You took away the only person I have ever cared for," Nemu replied, not sounding particularly like any one emotion. "And you do not even love him. You deserve to die." Ichigo looked from one to the other of the women, almost feeling as though he should leave the room. He knew better logically, of course; but he almost felt like he shouldn't be witnessing such a private conversation. And while Nemu remained as passive and unemotional as ever, Orihime looked downright terrified. Tears began to spill from her eyes as she walked to where Nemu was sitting.

"I do," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. He tried to give me so much love, and I couldn't really return it." She crouched to Nemu's eye level and placed the needle in the palm of the pale woman's hand. Using both hands, Orihime curled Nemu's fingers around the deadly instrument.

"If you still want to kill me, go ahead," she whispered, eyes lowered. Ichigo stood frozen for just a moment as Nemu deliberated. After only a few seconds, her hand moved like a flash; instead of Orihime, though, she stabbed the needle into her own neck.

Now Ichigo unfroze and came to his senses. Before she could press the plunger, he jerked the needle out of her flesh, throwing it to the floor. As soon as the syringe hit the floor, he stomped it with the sole of his waraji. The instrument shattered, eating through both his sandal and his office floor. Ichigo quickly threw his battered footwear off, hopping on one foot and cursing the entire time.

"Are you nuts?!" he barked, completely forgetting that it was only a little past 1 am. Orihime was in tears from all of this, apologizing over and over again. Nemu simply looked quietly amazed.

"I cannot continue this way," she quietly replied, looking down at her hands. Suddenly, Orihime bounded up from the floor to hug the shinigami. For once, Nemu looked genuinely startled.

"This is all my fault," Orihime said, miserably. "If I had just been a better wife, if I had just loved him more, I would never have hurt you..." Nemu considered this for a moment before her eyes seemed to soften.

"No," she replied. "The outcome would have been the same. He would still be married to you." Orihime stopped sobbing long enough to look at Nemu curiously. Behind her, Ichigo huffed angrily.

"This is ridiculous," Ichigo barked. "Inoue, listen to yourself! She almost killed you over something this stupid! How is that your fault?" Orihime began to answer him, but Ichigo silenced her with a stern look. "Who the hell deserves to die for being a bad wife?!"

"And Kurotsuchi," he continued, turning on the black-haired girl, "She's not even a threat to you! She's already dead! If you want Ishida, go get him! But if you ever come into my barracks with this bullshit again, I'll have you court marshaled so fast your _Captain's_ head will spin. Do you understand me?"

Both girls nodded, shamed into silence. But Ichigo could've sworn he saw something in Orihime's eyes that almost looked like admiration. His cheeks heating, he realized she'd never really seen him in Captain-mode before. Instead of looking abashed, he stared down his nose at the two of them. Now was not the time to be embarrassed.

"Yes, sir," they both muttered in unison.

"Kurotsuchi, get back to your division before your Captain notices you're gone," he continued, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. "And don't try anything else stupid. And you..." He turned to Orihime. "We're going to have a talk."

It didn't take long for Nemu to vanish. As soon as she was out of the room, Ichigo flopped down in his desk chair and massaged the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Orihime stood almost at attention, dressed only in the kosode she used for sleeping. Ichigo was suddenly keenly aware that neither of them were very well-clothed at the moment; he was in his bedclothes as well. This manifested on his face as a very pointed glare. He couldn't say it often, but right now, he was furious with Orihime.

"I'm so-", she began, cutting off abruptly when her eyes met Ichigo's.

"If you say you're sorry one more damn time," he practically growled, "I'll _make_ you sorry." He thought for a second that his hollow zanpakuto might even resurface, but thankfully for all parties involved, the beast remained silent.

Orihime shut her mouth tightly, lower lip trembling. It was fairly evident that she didn't know what to say if she couldn't continue to apologize.

"Now, tell me what all that was," he said slowly, his words measured. "' _If you want to kill me, go ahead'_? What the hell was that?!" He thought for a moment that Orihime was going to start crying again for sure. But she took a deep, loud breath, then began to speak.

"She was right, though," she said quietly, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke. "I didn't love Uryuu-kun when I married him. Not like a wife. I... I don't think I ever did." Ichigo continued staring at her as she glanced at her hands, talking to them instead of him.

"I married him because he offered and..." She swallowed, as though what she had to say next was particularly revolting. "I guess I didn't expect anyone else to want to marry me."

Ichigo was completely dumbstruck. How could a woman that beautiful, kind, and intelligent not realize there were men waiting around the block to be with her? Even when they were teenagers, even amongst his own division now, he constantly caught men eyeing her. He didn't think he could get any angrier with her, but he almost wanted to shake her now.

"So you married Ishida because you couldn't tell him no," Ichigo observed. Orihime nodded, her face full of wicked guilt.

"It's the worst thing you can do to someone, I think," she said quietly. Ichigo narrowed his eyes. He felt like he was about to explode.

"There are plenty of worse things you can do to someone," he corrected her roughly. "Like making them watch you try to kill yourself." Orihime flinched, almost as if she was hit. Ichigo knew she was probably just as torn up from letting him down as from the topic of conversation. But dammit, she needed to know that she was never to try and pull a stunt like that again.

"If you _ever,_ _ **ever**_ pull anything like that again," he ground out, being as intimidating as possible, "I will catch you, and I will make you regret ever setting foot in Soul Society. Is that clear?" Orihime looked absolutely bewildered; Ichigo was threatening her over herself.

"U-Uhn," she said with a small nod. "Yes, Kurosaki-kun." Hearing her address him like that took some of the edge off of his anger. Still, he tried not to let it show on his face.

"Alright," he grunted, looking away. "Try to go and get some sleep. If you look tired in the morning, Momo will worry." Orihime nodded her understanding, then began to back out of the room. She slid the door shut behind her with a soft click, leaving Ichigo alone with his thoughts.

His chin was half-buried in his hand. With Orihime no longer there to act as a focus for his anger, it began to dissipate. He was still upset with her, but it was mostly a nagging worry. What kind of state of mind was she in to think her behavior tonight was even moderately okay? He became so focused on this, that the other important thing he'd learned tonight was almost lost on him.

He was in the same situation Nemu was in now. The irony hit him fully then, like a brick to the head.

As that began to sink in, he realized that he'd heard all he needed to know tonight to make a decision. Yes, Ishida might possibly be in love with Orihime still, but she certainly didn't feel the same way. And if she didn't love her husband - should he think of him as an ex-husband? Damn, this was confusing - then he had a shot.

After seeing Nemu, Ichigo thought he understood Rangiku's frustration with him for the first time. Had he been _that_ melodramatic? That _dense_? Seeing others act out his own problems gave them a sort of clarity that nothing else had.

Ichigo grunted as he snuffed the lights of his office and shuffled back to his mat. He was sure of his next step; he had to at least try to win Orihime over. This wouldn't just be her agreement to see him; she'd already demonstrated that she would give that to a friend if he asked. Ichigo wanted her to be as fiercely in love with him as he was with her.

As he hit the mat, he heard his heartbeat drum in his ears. He'd finally admitted it to his stubborn self that he wanted her. That was the first step.

Unfortunately, Ichigo had no idea what to do for the next step.

* * *

To Ichigo's consternation, Orihime was decidedly not going to make things easy for him, it seemed. The next morning, she barely spoke or made eye contact, even as she bustled around the office and made his morning cup of coffee. She cleaned, dusted, did the floors, organized things, and was generally perpetually busy. And anytime Ichigo tried to get a word in edgewise, there was always a box she needed moved or a paper she needed filed. He began to wonder if she wasn't the Captain instead of him.

He couldn't tell if she was angry at him, or too embarrassed to face him. In either case, Ichigo wished she'd go clean somewhere else so he could gather his wits. He needed to figure out who to ask for help.

He could ask Rukia; she knew Orihime better than almost anyone. But they had been out of touch for several years and were just getting reacquainted. Plus, she'd tease him and hold it over Ichigo's head forever if he asked her for more help. Rukia dropped to the bottom of Ichigo's list.

Rangiku was right out; she'd have Ichigo somehow spending his life savings on her advice. Also out were Ikkaku, Shunsui, Iba, Izuru, Rose, Shinji, Shuuhei, Kenpachi, Yachiru, and Nanao. His options were steadily becoming more and more limited. Finally, the only people who weren't instantly disqualified in his book were Yumichika, Renji, and Kensei.

Well, Kensei it would have to be.

Ichigo found the older Vizard at the Ninth Division training grounds, barking orders at his recruits. After the wars, he had been given back the captaincy that it turned out rightfully belonged to him before his transformation. To Ichigo's surprise, Rose had joined him as the Third Division captain, and had Ichigo himself not been given the position of Fifth Division captain, Shinji would've been offered it. Instead, the blond had been given the vacant Captain's spot in Division Eight. He'd also given Ichigo a pat on the back, directions to his favorite old house of ill-repute, and wished him well. Ichigo would never admit that he'd actually gone there out of curiosity once. Or way more than once. But that was neither here nor there.

The white-haired Vizard raised one pierced eyebrow when he saw his younger colleague crossing the grounds toward him. Ichigo could see his look of skepticism from yards away.

"What's up?" Kensei cut to the point as usual when Ichigo was within earshot. Normally, Ichigo would've met him straight on, addressing whatever he'd come to talk about openly. Now, however, he wasn't sure if he could look his friend in the eye as he spoke. He wasn't even sure if he should ask him anything at all.

Kensei obviously took the awkward silence as some kind of admission, because he smirked. "Girl trouble?" Ichigo almost turned and stomped off right then.

"No!" he blatantly lied. "Augh, I knew this was a bad idea!" Kensei was unconvinced, but he also noticed some of his recruits were starting to look their way.

"You maggots keep your eyes straight ahead!" he addressed them, voice booming across the field. "Hisagi, keep them in line. You," he turned to Ichigo, "Let's walk."

They had gone far enough that the sounds of the training field were no longer heard. Kensei turned to Ichigo, looking at the younger man over his shoulder.

"Is it the girl from Karakura?" he asked. Ichigo was sure his face was bright red. There could be no one else to which the other Vizard was referring.

"Yeah," Ichigo grumbled in reply, scratching his cheek. "Wait, how did you know?" Kensei gave him a disinterested look.

"Do you know how many pictures of her have landed on my desk in the past two weeks?" Now it was Ichigo's turn to look incredulous.

"Your photographers have been following her around?" he sputtered in disbelief. "Tell them to stop!"

"I don't tell them what to take pictures of," he groused, folding his arms and leaning against a nearby tree. He obviously sensed that answer did not sit well with Ichigo and continued. "But if you catch any of them on your division's grounds, feel free to beat the crap out of them. I'm tired of seeing the same subject on my desk every damn day." Ichigo smirked at the prospect of hitting something before what Kensei had said clicked.

"Every day?!" he repeated incredulously.

"Every. Damn. Day." Kensei repeated, stressing each word. Ichigo could feel heat rising in his face along with his anger.

"Good god," he grumbled. Did that sort of thing really sell papers? Maybe he should tell Orihime to pursue a modeling career instead of attending the shinigami academy.

"Look," Ichigo finally said. "That's not what I'm here about. I need some advice." Kensei's eyes flickered, then darkened.

"Your hollow acting up?" he asked. Ichigo almost became flustered before gathering himself again immediately.

"Not that," he said, a tinge of relief in his voice, "It was about Inoue, actually. I... need some dating advice." Even though the last part was muttered, Kensei's expression didn't change; he still regarded Ichigo as stoically as ever. The younger man wouldn't even meet his eyes.

"And you think I have any?" the white-haired Vizard asked, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. "Look who I've been hanging out with for the past century, kid. Hell, just look at Shinji." Ichigo shuffled, huffing and glancing off to the side. Dammitall, did he have to be so damned unhelpful about everything?

"That's still more experience than I've got with this," the redhead groused. "Will you just hear me out? I don't care if it's shitty advice, anything beats what I've been doing."

Kensei grunted his approval, and Ichigo launched into his tale. He covered as much as he could recall off-hand, being careful not to go into any kind of excessive detail. The older vizard listened attentively, and Ichigo told his story with a grim expression. As pedestrian as his problem was - that he was in love with his friend's wife - it felt deathly serious to him.

Finally, after Ichigo had finished, Kensei spoke up.

"Like I said before," he began deliberately, "I'm no expert on these things. But it seems like she's got a lot to sort out. I'm not saying to ditch her until then, but you can't start anything until she's got her head on straight. When that happens, go nuts." Ichigo's eyebrows furrowed as he digested Kensei's advice. It wasn't what he'd wanted to hear at all.

"That could take years," he thought out loud. Kensei merely shrugged.

"Do you have anywhere better to be?" Ichigo flinched; of course he didn't. He hadn't had anywhere else to be in ten years. Knowing the answer to his question, the older man continued, awkwardly trying to smooth out his sentiments. "Well, neither does she. Give her some time."

Ichigo glared at the ground ahead. He knew Kensei was right. He couldn't short-cut this. He had to do things the right way, nice and clean. That way, there'd be no questions and no room for any doubt.

"Thanks, Kensei," he finally muttered, eyes flickering back to his friend. Kensei regarded him with his usual gruff air.

"Let me know how it goes."

As it turned out, it took less than a week for Ichigo to slam into his next hurdle, anyway.


	7. The Story

* * *

The next week was quiet.

Orihime slowly thawed to Ichigo, and by Thursday, she was her normal, chipper self around him again. Or at least that's how she seemed; Ichigo found he could no longer trust appearances around her. With the knowledge that she could seem perfectly fine, but be hiding deep scars on the inside, he found himself second-guessing anything he may have wanted to say to her. He didn't want to broach the subject of their argument again, so even though he was dying to know if she was actually still angry with him, he had to let it drop.

But by mid-morning on Thursday, his next big problem had landed on his desk - literally.

A paper-faced Momo rushed into Ichigo's office, where he was hard at work on expense reports. With a flutter of official forms, she threw a glossy magazine down on his desk. He stopped stamping the forms, mid-stamp, and glowered at her from beneath his brows.

"What was that for?" he groused. "If this is another Women's Association fundraiser -" he was cut off by the worried expression Momo was directing his way.

"It's not that," she nearly whispered, "Just look at it!"

Ichigo glanced down and was immediately struck by the cover. It was a glossy picture of Orihime, captured mid-laugh, wearing the most expensive furisode Rangiku had dressed her up in. The silk was in varying bright shades of red, cream, green, and pink, a compliment to her russet hair and peaches and cream complexion. But somehow, even with the innocuous subject matter, the picture managed to be simultaneously unflattering and sinister; while Ichigo could recognize Orihime's picture instinctively, he didn't think he'd ever seen her look quite like that. Did the Bulletin have photo editing software?

That question died before it was properly formed, though, as Ichigo finally read the copy on the cover.

"' _Seduction of a Captain - The Ryoka woman returns! Destruction of the Gotei 13 from the inside?!'_ " he read passively, almost under his breath. After blinking three times just to make sure he was seeing it correctly, all color drained from Ichigo's face.

"What the hell is this?!" he bellowed, causing Momo to frantically make shushing motions at him. They stared each other down for a second before Momo took a look around and decided the coast was clear.

"The new issue of The Seireitei Bulletin," she explained. "It just came out this morning. Oh, Captain, this is awful! They're everywhere!" Ichigo glared at her for another moment before his eyes dropped back down to the paper.

"Maybe the story isn't that bad..." he muttered to himself as he flipped open the magazine. He turned to the relevant page and began to read as Momo stood in tense silence.

_'...witnesses report that the normally frugal Captain of the Fifth Division has nearly been drained of his assets by the nefarious vixen. The protests of the virtuous Vice Captains of Fifth and Tenth Division went unheeded as she allegedly spent two year's worth of the Captain's salary on clothes and shoes. Later, the Captain himself was seen purchasing a lady's clothing and jewelry. Can a proposal be far off? Will anyone save the noble Captain before it's too late?'_

Ichigo's jaw hung open as he looked up to see Momo's fretting face. Now he knew why she'd remained silent.

"I was wrong," he choked out, "It's _worse_."

"They normally write silly things like this, but if Orihime-chan sees this..." Momo trailed off. She didn't need to finish the sentence; Ichigo knew that Orihime reading that story might destroy her. He'd only just gotten her to start talking to him again; he doubted she'd ever leave her room again if she saw this.

"I suppose the only good thing is that they didn't mention Takeko..." Ichigo's eyes flew open at this remark before he began frantically shushing Momo again.

"Shut _up_!" he hissed. "They might have the damn room bugged! That is the last thing you need to talk about right now!" Momo cast him a small glare of her own before looking back at the offending magazine.

"What should we do?" she asked. Ichigo's face fell into shadow as he contemplated the grim task before him.

"Burn them," he growled, "Burn them _all_."

* * *

Something was very strange today.

Orihime wasn't sure at first. She'd started her day like normal, dressing and doing her stretches. But as she moved towards Ichigo's office, there was the strangest feeling in the air. It was as if the very walls were watching her; there was a pressure directed towards her by whomever she passed, although she couldn't begin to fathom why.

When she got to Ichigo's office, he wasn't there. Instead, Momo immediately engaged her and began chattering away. Orihime happily obliged her, putting her unease aside. There was an underlying nervousness in Momo's manner, but perhaps she was just imagining things.

"Where's Kurosaki-kun, Momo-san?" she finally asked, after a requisite few minutes' worth of niceties. "He's usually here by now, isn't he? Don't tell me he's still asleep!" Even with their little tiff the previous week, Orihime still couldn't help but miss him and worry for him in his absence. Momo glanced away, no longer meeting Orihime's eyes.

"Oh, ahh-!" the Vice Captain began, her voice hesitant, "He had an errand to run this morning!" Orihime cocked her head to the side, puzzled.

"He couldn't get a subordinate to run it for him?" she asked thoughtfully. "He's usually so busy!"

"Oh, he's still busy," Momo provided. "There was just something he had to take care of in person!" This satisfied Orihime; she knew she had no idea what the duties of a Captain must be, so she shouldn't second guess Ichigo too much. Maybe it was an important meeting! Captains seemed to have those all the time.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully, finger at her chin. "I wish he'd have left me a note so I wouldn't worry. I guess it was urgent, huh?" Momo's smile seemed to stretch even thinner. Orihime wondered at that.

"Oh yes!" the Vice Captain affirmed, "It was super urgent! You shouldn't worry about it, though! In fact, don't even think about it! He'll be back before lunch!"

At this point, Orihime was fairly sure something odd was going on, but she had no way of dragging it out of Momo. Every inquiry was deflected, and every curious noise was met with a disarming smile and innocuous remark. Whatever was going on, Orihime decided she'd have less trouble getting it out of Ichigo, whenever he showed back up.

But he still had not returned by lunch. Orihime was apprehensive then, but pushed it down. Instead, she opted to go to the dining hall and get a bite to eat. Once there, however, the weirdness intensified. She definitely wasn't imagining it.

The shinigami in the dining area were openly staring at her. A few were whispering to one another. Most didn't seem malicious, but one or two of the women were glaring daggers at her. Orihime even checked to make sure her yukata was on straight and there was nothing wrong with her hair; no answer was forthcoming from her appearance. It all reminded her keenly of junior high school.

But, also knowing well how to deal with these sorts of things, Orihime visibly shrugged it off. Of course she was unnerved inside, but there was no way she'd let it show in public. If someone was trying to bully her, that would only make them happy.

The hushed murmur that had greeted her when she entered escalated as she sat down at her table. People were talking as normal now, but they almost seemed to be talking _around_ her. Orihime pretended not to hear them and tucked into her food. After a couple moments, they had faded into the background anyway.

So it genuinely startled Orihime when a magazine dropped onto the table in front of her. Before she could see whoever had left it for her, they were gone. But she was keenly aware that the entire room was holding its breath and trying to appear as though they weren't watching her. As she reached for the magazine, the lunch hall fell deathly silent. They were clearly waiting for her reaction.

Finally, Orihime picked up the magazine and flipped it over to see the cover. What in the world was this all about?

* * *

Ichigo's morning had been absolutely insane.

After the business with the magazine first thing in the morning, he'd made it his mission to eradicate every issue he could get his hands on. Furthermore, he refused to give the magazine a single kan. He figured Ninth Division was betting on selling plenty of copies of this and making bank on the scandal. Not only did he intend to destroy most of the copies before anyone could read them, but he was going to make sure the return on them was miserable so that they would never try this again.

That was all easier said than done. Firstly, the copies had been delivered very early in the morning, so most shinigami had gotten theirs during breakfast in their divisional hall. Even though Ichigo stomped through all thirteen and collected the damned things, they had already been read. Most of the other divisions didn't like being invaded like that, either. He was sure he'd hear about that from Shunsui or Nanao soon.

Then there were the private vendors - the shopkeepers and newsstand owners. They were tougher even than the Captains, and most of them were willing to fight Ichigo physically to protect their stock. Those books had already been paid for by the shops, so he quickly realized there was no point in denying the shopkeepers their money. He also didn't want to risk being arrested for theft.

Reluctantly, he coughed up the kan and bought their stock. Even though he'd gotten paid since Rangiku spent his savings, it was still a punch to the wallet. Giving in on that part left a bad taste in his mouth; they at least got the satisfaction of taking his money. But at least watching them burn with a quick fire kidou was somewhat satisfying.

That left the last part of his to-do list.

When he stormed through the doors of the Ninth Division printing offices, the lower-ranked shinigami gave him a wide berth. Ichigo's spiritual pressure was suffocating, and he didn't really care to keep it in check. If anyone didn't like it, they could leave; although it seemed that most were opting to cower behind their desks instead. They knew he knew what they'd done.

When he came to the door of Kensei's office, he pushed it so hard that it almost splintered. The white-haired Vizard was inside, stamping paperwork at his desk, when Ichigo barged in. He looked up with exasperated eyes and surveyed the damage.

"If you break my door, you'll owe me a new one," Kensei stated plainly. Ichigo was sure he turned purple at the admonition.

"I don't give a damn about your door!" he barked. "What the hell is this?!" He threw a copy of the Bulletin onto his old friend's desk and watched his expression. He barely even raised his pierced eyebrow, although Ichigo knew he had to have been expecting an angry visit from him. Kensei was the one he'd asked for help, after all. If this was the older man's idea of helping, he'd hate to see him trying to actually hurt someone.

"Talk to Mashiro," was all he said, eyes flickering over Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo's thunderous scowl melted as he processed what Kensei had said. Before he could turn around, Ichigo was being tackled by a green-haired bundle of energy.

"Berry-taaaaan!" Mashiro sang at him, "How did you like my story?" Ichigo pitched forward as she pounced onto his back, a large 'whuff' of air escaping his mouth. Instead of having the good grace to then slide to the floor, Mashiro stayed right where she'd "landed". She swung with him as he whirled around.

"You?!" he barked, "You were the one that did it?!"

"I told you to find a different cover story," Kensei growled from behind his desk. From his tone of voice, Ichigo began to think that the article was an unpleasant surprise to him as well.

"Oh, poo," Mashiro tutted, "That thing you wanted was boooooooring! My story was soooo much better." Ichigo almost thought that he should leave, just so Kensei wouldn't have to discipline his former Lieutenant and current investigative reporter in front of him. Instead, he watched with morbid fascination as Kensei's huge hands slammed into his desk and he pushed himself up.

"That _boring thing_ also had factual reporting in it!" he boomed. Mashiro was unfazed; instead of being intimidated, she looked like she'd been sucking on lemons.

"It was about _plants_ ," she said, her tone communicating her distaste, "No one wants to read about plants! They want to read about people!" Ichigo thought he saw steam coming out of Kensei's ears.

"Then they can read about them in the gossip column, where they belong!" Mashiro sniffed, turning her face away from her Captain.

"You liked it, right, Berry-tan?" she asked Ichigo, clearly expecting him to agree with her. Ichigo pulled her arms from around his neck, then ducked his head out of them.

"Are you insane?" he barked, turning on her. "I had to buy every damn copy in Seireitei just to keep anyone else from reading it!" Mashiro just smiled.

"See, Kensei? He did like it!" If he weren't already dead, Ichigo thought he might well have dropped of an aneurysm on the spot. His head certainly felt like it was going to explode, at any rate.

"Are you being this dense on purpose, or does it come naturally?!" he yelled, not even causing Mashiro to flinch. "Do you know what'll happen if Inoue sees this?!"

The thought filled Ichigo with frozen dread. He could already see her; eyes wide with tears ready to fall, sinking to the ground in a half-faint, lower lip quivering. Her gaze would meet his, speaking of pain and betrayal. Worst of all, Ichigo wasn't sure he would even know how to comfort her from something like that. Seeing Mashiro's nonchalance at his situation caused the dread to thaw into hot, molten fury. The green-haired girl shrugged and Ichigo wanted to explode.

"It's just a joke, Berry," she huffed, "You're too serious!"

"You're not serious enough! Don't you think anyone will believe this when they read it? How do you think they're going to treat Inoue if they think she's some kind of man-eating gold digger? How do you think she's going to react when she sees it?!"

"When who sees what?"

Ichigo's blood froze. He saw Mashiro staring past him with a semi-vacant expression while Kensei looked on uneasily. He knew that voice. He hoped feebly that it was only a product of his furious imagination, but deep down Ichigo knew that was not the case. What the hell was Orihime doing there, and who told her to show up?

Ichigo turned slowly to see his worst fear confirmed behind him. There stood Orihime, magazine in hand, head tilted to the side and giving him a quizzical look. Ichigo's mind flashed with nightmare scenarios, each more fearsome than the last, before she finally spoke again.

"What are you doing here, Kurosaki-kun?" she addressed him before turning to the other two with a smile. "Did you come here to thank Kuna-san, too?" Ichigo could feel the color drain from his face as the pit dropped out of his stomach.

"Th-Thank her..." He knew he was staring now, but he just couldn't process what Orihime was saying. Mashiro, on the other hand, seemed entirely too happy to accept Orihime's praise.

"Haaaaaaah-!" the green-haired girl happily gasped, poking Kensei in the nose with her pointer finger, "See, Kensei! I told you it was a good piece! Booby-tan liked it!" Orihime blushed at the nickname, but the two men simply looked dumbfounded.

"It was really well-written!" Orihime finally said, recovering. "I sound really sinister, and the cart-chase scene was really exciting!" Kensei slapped his forehead while Ichigo looked violently confused.

"Cart-chase...?!"

"I was really proud of that one!" Mashiro beamed. "What did you think of the love scene?" Ichigo turned bright scarlet, all the way to the tips of his ears.

"Hmm," Orihime hemmed thoughtfully, "It was a little graphic, but I guess that's okay for the piece. I'm not sure if Kurosaki-kun is into candles, though." Ichigo's head swam. He'd only read enough to know that the piece was completely misrepresentative of Orihime and of their relationship. He would never have guessed that it was basically glorified porn.

"But the leather was okay, right?" Orihime seemed thoroughly engrossed in this conversation, completely ignoring the two men on the verge of a melt down in the room.

"D-Do you really think I'd look alright in something like that?" The smaller woman nodded knowingly before reaching over and cupping Orihime's breasts with her hands as though she were testing their weight.

"You'd need something sturdy enough to hold these up, but I think you could do it!"

Ichigo watched all of this with an expression of stark horror on his face. His head was pounding, blood drumming through his ears and drowning out the rest of their conversation. Orihime didn't even look taken aback by the groping, which made the whole thing more surreal. Ichigo could take no more of this; he was totally and thoroughly _done_.

"That's it," he growled, grabbing Orihime's hand and pulling her towards the door with him. "Dammit, Kensei, do something about this!" The Ninth Division leadership watched them go in silence.

A few seconds after the door closed, Mashiro turned to Kensei with a grin. The silver-haired Vizard still leveled the same cold stare at his former Lieutenant. It only caused her to giggle.

"I think that was a good job!" she said. Kensei's brow creased further.

"What?"

"Well, you said he asked you for relationship help, right?" Mashiro crossed her arms and looked as if her train of thought was so simple a child could follow it.

"That was supposed to _help_ them?" Kensei slowly asked, the disbelief apparent in his voice. He always knew Mashiro was crazy, but this was just too much. The green-haired shinigami nodded with a knowing smile.

"Yup!" she chirped, "He could get to defend her, and she could get ideas! I must be a genius, huh?"

"That's one word for it," Kensei grumbled, head in hands. Although it seemed like everything had turned out for the best, it was very clear to him that they'd just had a brush with death.

As they neared the edge of the Ninth Division's property, Ichigo began to slow. He had been trying not to be too rough with Orihime, but he really wanted to be gone ten minutes ago. She hadn't complained at all - on the contrary, she was following wordlessly, tethered by the wrist he had wrapped his hand around earlier. But that didn't mean he could assume she was okay. Especially not with the way things had been going recently.

"Inoue?" he asked, turning his head to look at her. She looked mostly puzzled, which he took as a good sign. "Are you okay?" Orihime smiled as she nodded.

"I'm fine," she said, her eyes soft, "Just a little confused. Did something happen?" Ichigo was once again nearly struck dumb.

"You read that article, right?" he asked, making sure they were on the same page.

"Oh yes!" Orihime replied, her face taking on a look that Ichigo thought he might not have seen since high school. "It was really funny! What was your favorite part?" Ichigo watched her with growing fascination. She was animated, gesturing as she spoke, her face lit up with joy. He was certain now; this was the happiest he'd seen her since she arrived.

"My favorite part?" he parroted dumbly, stalling while he picked out his thoughts, "It wasn't true, though! Doesn't it bother you that people might believe it?" They had stopped walking now, right in front of the Ninth Division gates. He turned to face her, fascinated by her happiness in the face of such slander.

"Of course not, Kurosaki-kun!" Ichigo's face bespoke his question, so Orihime continued. "I've always wanted to be an evil temptress! Do you think I should smoke? Ooh, I don't think that's for me, but maybe I could pretend? Should I go with cigarettes or a kisaru? Oh, but you didn't hear that, alright? It'll have to be a secret from you, so I can hide my sinister personality..." As Orihime chattered, Ichigo's confusion melted into acceptance, and then genuine amusement. Mashiro must have engaged her imagination, and that must have awakened a part of her personality that had been dormant until now.

Although, as she began musing about whether he should take her shopping himself for the benefit of the paper, a thought occurred to Ichigo. Even though the paper had portrayed her in the worst light it could, Orihime didn't seem to mind the idea behind the article - that she had beguiled him for her own purposes, namely. Ichigo told himself not to think too much of it, but the possibility was so tantalizing that it was hard not to. Was she really okay with the idea of being with him? His cheeks burned at the thought.

"Ah-!" Orihime exclaimed, knocking him out of his reverie, "Kurosaki-kun, your face is red! Now you really do look like a strawberry!" Orihime looked extra pleased with herself for the pun as she pointed a finger into his cheek.

Ichigo startled, as though he had just been awakened from a nap. He looked around nervously; sure enough, there were people watching. Worse, they were still on Ninth Division property, which meant at least one was a reporter - probably the one barely concealed behind the tree with the notebook. He didn't doubt there was a photographer or two in the bushes, either.

"Don't... Don't be dumb!" he scoffed, although by the way Orihime kept smiling at him, he knew it was a threadbare defense. After a second, though, he reached up to scratch his cheek and looked off into the distance.

"But... does this mean I'm forgiven?" Orihime stopped smiling and gave Ichigo a curious look, head cocked to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"You... You were mad at me, right?" he asked, brows furrowed, "From the other day?" He didn't want to bring the topic up too bluntly, but he had to know. Orihime looked confused for a moment before realization dawned on her face. Her eyes flittered from his face to the ground, an awkward smile on her face.

"I wasn't mad at you," she said softly, "I thought you were mad at me." Ichigo felt his face lighten, the curious stares around them fading into the background. As Orihime looked shyly back up at him, he felt his mouth begin to pull up into a grin. Even though he wouldn't say it, he couldn't stay mad at Orihime.

"Nah," he said dismissively, "I was upset, but I got over it pretty quickly. You don't have anything to worry about." Orihime's eyes shimmered with some deep emotion Ichigo couldn't name. He wasn't sure what it could be, but it was definitely there.

"I'm glad," she said quietly, drawing closer to him. "I guess I didn't realize it before, but it's scary when I'm the one you're mad at." A small spark lit inside Ichigo; he couldn't resist teasing her a little, now that everything was being settled. His look grew a shade more serious as he continued to watch her.

"But it's alright when I'm mad at someone else?" Orihime looked startled before waving her hands anxiously in front of her face.

"No, I didn't mean it like that!" she stammered, "It's not like I think it's funny when you yell at people!" Ichigo couldn't hold back a smirk. "Wh-What I mean is, I don't think people getting yelled at is funny!"

"I see," he said, letting his eyelids slide down and stroking his chin with his fingers, "So you enjoy schadenfreude, Inoue?" He had begun walking again, leading her away from the prying eyes and ears of Ninth Division. Within a few steps, they had passed through the divisional gate and were headed back to Fifth Division's grounds.

"N-No!" she exclaimed, trailing behind like an anxious duckling, "I just... I just think your face is funny when you're angry!" Ichigo stopped again and turned to look at her curiously. "When you're not angry at me, I mean."

For once, Ichigo felt like he had reached Orihime's honest self. This wasn't the tear-stained person he'd been tiptoeing around for weeks, and it wasn't the mask of cheerfulness he saw the rest of the time. This Orihime was awkward and endearing, like a baby bird testing her wings, like the sun peeking out from the clouds after a long, hard storm. But at the same time, he felt like she might slip away at any moment and put the mask back in place.

Ichigo gave a breathy half-chuckle, then began walking again - slower this time, so Orihime could keep up.

"I'll try not to get mad at you anymore, alright?" he said kindly, looking over his shoulder at her. Orihime still followed three steps behind him. She drew up just short of him before stopping and looking up.

"Alright, Kurosaki-kun," she said, a smile spreading across her face. "I'll do my best from now on, too." Ichigo gave her a small nod.

"Okay. Go ahead and go back to the office. I've got some more business to catch up on." Orihime nodded at him before pulling a copy of the magazine from the fold of her yukata.

"Uhn," she nodded, before showing him the book, "But before I go... Could you autograph my copy?" Ichigo's eye twitched as his smile turned strained.

"What?" he asked, watching her expectant face for any signs she was joking. If she was, she was as stone-faced as any thug. If anything, that made him angrier.

"If you don't get back to that office right now, I swear..." He didn't finish the thought, instead giving Orihime an evil sneer. She must have known he wasn't serious, because she laid one hand on her cheek and looked mock-scandalized.

"Oh no, Kurosaki-kun's angry!" she teased, holding her copy of the magazine to her breast. "I'd better run!" Before he could reply, she took off like a shot, sleeves flapping clumsily behind her as she ran in the direction of Fifth Division.

As Ichigo watched her back fade into the distance, he allowed himself a small smile. He had underestimated Orihime and her resilience. Even though there was obviously something troubling her, and he was sure it hadn't gone away, at her heart she was still the same kind girl he'd known in high school. Even though she'd suffered tragedy, she was slowly recovering. It was too much to hope that she'd be back to normal now; these things took time. But this was a start.

As Ichigo finally began to move again, he felt a little lighter. His situation wasn't hopeless, and both of them could be able to move on with their lives. He just had to keep trying. Orihime could be reached. She could come out of it. She could be herself again.


	8. The Outing

* * *

Ichigo stared at his desk calendar. His mouth was hidden behind his woven fingers as he looked on, deep in concentration. His expression gave away just how lost in thought he was.

It was the second Friday of the month. This was the day that he was supposed to go out drinking with his friends. Traditionally, this was an occasion for him and his other single (male) friends to carouse and have a good time at the local bars. He and a few others usually finished the night up at one of the nearby cathouses.

And therein lay his problem.

If Ichigo went out, he would most likely wind up taking a month's worth of pent up frustration out on a woman who wasn't Orihime. He wasn't sure how fair that was to her, or even to the other woman. On the one hand, it wasn't as if he and Orihime were actually a couple. It wasn't fair to burden her with his needs when she wasn't obligated to deal with them. And in reality, he didn't owe her even an explanation, and she really had no place to be jealous of anything he did. And it might be healthy for him to clear his mind and approach her without that cloud hanging over his head. If he got it out of his system now, he wouldn't be as awkward with her as he had been. Or at least that was his working theory.

But on the other hand, it felt wrong to him somehow - like an excuse. Yes, he had been stupid to continue to hold onto her marriage to Ishida when she hadn't as much consideration for it. And yes, he could accept now that he was very possibly in love with her. It was entirely likely that he had been all along. Even though he could logically explain to himself all the reasons it wasn't, it still felt like cheating to him. Besides, this wasn't any kind of way to start off pursuing Orihime in earnest.

If Ichigo was completely honest with himself, there was another reason he was hesitant to go. It was to do with the woman he usually visited on these occasions. He knew she looked forward to his visits and although she probably wouldn't say so, she would regret his absence. As cowardly as it was, he didn't want to tell her the reason he was going to stop coming by. But the hard truth was that if he was going to be serious about Orihime, he'd have to cut that thread.

With a frustrated sigh, he pushed up from his desk with his hands. Facing the reality that he was just being cowardly was a slap that brought him back to his senses. He had to go and settle things with that woman, if nothing else.

As Ichigo left his office, he passed Momo's desk. His little Vice Captain seemed to be agitated; he knew very well the reason why. Momo knew the date, too.

"You're going out tonight, aren't you?" she asked without looking at him. She continued shuffling and stamping papers as though she hadn't said a word. Ichigo huffed a sigh and faced her. Her disapproval was as palpable as if _she_ was his girlfriend.

"Look, Momo..."

"Are you going to see Takeko?" Momo's brown eyes lanced him as she shot him a sharp look. Although Ichigo cringed inwardly, outwardly his hackles raised like a cat.

"It's going to be the last time," he said defensively. Momo harumphed and turned back to her paperwork.

"Just don't come back drunk," she ordered. " _Or_ smelling like perfume." Ichigo practically fumed.

"You sound like Ise!" he grumped. Momo still didn't look at him, and that was more annoying than what she was saying.

"Do you _want_ Orihime-san to see you drunk?" she shot back. The briefest image of himself sloppy drunk shot through Ichigo's head. He could certainly hold his liquor, but he still overindulged every time. It was a habit he'd developed out of self-preservation, honestly; he deserved one night a month to completely obliterate himself! But it wasn't anything he wanted Orihime to ever see, or even to know about.

"Fine," he sighed, "If I get too wasted, I'll just stay out." Momo gave him another laser-powered death glare but said nothing against it. The message was clear: if he got completely trashed and drug himself back to the barracks, Momo would make him sleep on the lawn for his own good. Ichigo turned to go with a huff.

"I'll cover for you _this_ time," she said as he touched the door, "but you'd better make sure this is the last time." Ichigo let his mask slip, his face showing gratitude and concern as he looked back at his Vice Captain.

"Thanks, Momo," he said quietly before slipping out the door.

* * *

As Ichigo seated himself at the table, Renji let out a long, low whistle.

"Gotta say, I didn't expect to see you this month," the redhead said, eyeing Ichigo suspiciously. "Thought you'd be leaving us by now." Ichigo didn't meet his friend's eyes as he sat; his expression could kill.

"No such luck," he growled, "You're still stuck with me this time." Renji barked a laugh as he threw back another shot. Ichigo watched out of the corner of his eye while he flagged a server down himself. The sooner he was drunk, the better.

"So what's the deal?" Renji finally asked, setting his glass on the table. "I saw the article. Pretty interesting reading." Ichigo bristled. "How much of it's true?" Renji gave him an absolutely insufferable, smug look, as though he already knew the answer but couldn't resist teasing Ichigo. Ichigo was struck by the urge to punch his friend, but opted to take the shot their server had brought over instead.

"None of it," he hissed, "as you well know." Ninth Division's Hisagi was also seated at the table, to the right of Renji. Ichigo cast him a quick glance to see that he was studiously looking everywhere except at him. Just as well; Ichigo was well aware that Mashiro had gone over both her Captain and Vice Captain's heads to print her hit piece.

"Too bad," Renji said, elbowing his redheaded friend, "That'd be less depressing than you usually are!"

"I am not depressing!" Ichigo objected, motioning for another shot. He knew he'd regret taking them this fast in succession, but he wanted to be anywhere other than where he was just then. His objection was met with laughter from the others in the group; besides Renji and Hisagi, there was Iba, Ikkaku, and Kira. Rangiku sometimes joined them, but she was absent this time; she typically made Kira and Hisagi pay for her drinks, then skipped out when the rest of the party was well and sloshed. If he had to hazard a guess, Ichigo would say she was probably entertaining Orihime; Rangiku was certainly aware they were out tonight.

Ichigo pointedly looked away from his friends, though. Like hell he'd meet their eyes when they were intent on teasing him like this. Unless, of course, he turned the tables...

"Does Rukia know you're here?" He didn't look at his target, but then again, he didn't need to. He knew Renji had just turned white as a sheet.

"O-Of course not!" Ichigo could practically hear his teeth chattering. "You... You aren't gonna tell her, are you?!" Even though he smirked, Ichigo still gazed steadily forward. He calmly took his third shot, having materialized with their attentive server. "Dammit, Ichigo, don't tell her!"

Finally, Ichigo's eyes slid over to regard his flustered friend.

"She doesn't approve, huh?"

It was a rhetorical question; Ichigo knew very well that Rukia disapproved of their monthly benders. He had no real interest in placating his short friend, but Renjii definitely did. And that was mentioning nothing of what his Captain would have to say on the matter; if Renji wanted to someday be a part of the Kuchiki clan, he'd have to meet the approval of its head. So rather than a question, Ichigo had just issued a subtle threat. It was one he had no intention of following up on, but Renji didn't need to know that.

"F-Fine," Renji sputtered, hiding behind his own glass. "You win this round." Ichigo let his expression relax into one of self-satisfaction as he took another drink.

* * *

Orihime was cuddled into a pile of blankets in the center of her room, reading a romance novel that Momo had lent her. Novels from Seireitei were different than anything she'd read back home, to be sure. It reminded her of some of the old TV period dramas she'd seen as a child, but with flowery descriptions of robes and zanpakuto instead. There was also a strange preoccupation with lost nobility out of the Rukongai. Orihime didn't think she'd ever quite get used to Seireitei culture.

Momo had already informed the younger lady earlier that night that her Captain wouldn't be coming back until very late, near morning, and that her best option would be to occupy herself tonight and speak with him first thing in the morning. According to the Lieutenant, since it was a late night business meeting, Ichigo would probably be in no state to see her when he came in anyway. This was suggested to be due to the late hour, but Orihime had seen enough family dramas to know that businessmen drank like fish and that Ichigo would probably come back more drunk than tired. And while Orihime would've gladly helped him to his room no matter how incoherent he was, Momo reminded her that he had his pride to think about, too.

So she'd planned a Girl's Night In, with herself as the only girl. She had her book and her futon and a pile of snacks, so she was set for the night. Or so she'd thought.

Shortly after dark, Orihime heard a knocking on her veranda. She got up to check who it could be, but was somehow not surprised.

"Rangiku-san?" the older blonde gave her a wink and a shush as she entered the room.

"Quietly, Orihime-chan!" the blonde whispered as she slipped in. "You don't want Hinamori to hear us!" Orihime cocked her head as she watched her friend slide into a place at her low table, now curious.

"Why not? Are you not supposed to be here?" Rangiku looked slyly around, although Orihime knew very well it was just for show. The other woman was experienced enough that she would be able to feel Momo's reiatsu if she was headed their way.

"I doubt either of them would want me around tonight," she whispered after a second's reflection. "But I figured you could use some company tonight, so here I am! Ooh, whatcha readin?" Orihime was well aware that Rangiku had abruptly changed the subject, but she let it slide. Surely the older woman had her reasons.

"A romance novel!" she happily replied. "It's about a fallen noble family's daughter falling in love with a shinigami who's being accused of treason..." Rangiku looked only mildly interested as Orihime explained.

"Oh, that old plot," she said with a wave of her hand. "That's every third one nowadays, it seems like." Orihime's mouth formed a fascinated "o" at this information. Some things were the same, even in Soul Society.

"Ah-! But... did you come over to stay the night, Rangiku-san?" Orihime would happily accept that, but she'd need more blankets and more snacks, possibly even a whole pillow fort!

"Maybe!" Rangiku chirped, making herself comfortable in the nest of blankets. "It all depends on if you need me to or not!" Orihime really did give her a puzzled look this time.

"Eh? If I need you to?"

"Of course!" came the reply. "If you were lonely or sad, I'd-"

"Oh!" Orihime exclaimed. "Because Kurosaki-kun went out drinking!" Rangiku's eyes popped open and a look of something almost like fear came over her face.

"You knew?!" she gasped, a little pout on her face. "He didn't tell you himself, did he?" Orihime's hair fell over her shoulder as she cocked her head again.

"Eh?" she said vacantly. "Well, Momo-san told me he had a late business meeting, but it's the same thing, right? They'll all get drunk and wear their ties on their heads-"

"...ties..?"

"-and then they'll sing enka songs badly at karaoke and fall into a big public fountain before coming home! Right?"

Rangiku stared at Orihime, dumbfounded, before shaking her head and smiling.

"You know what?" Rangiku said affectionately, "Yes. That's exactly right, Orihime-chan!" Orihime briefly noticed a flutter in Rangiku's reiatsu that felt a bit like relief, but let it slide. Whatever Ichigo was doing couldn't be that bad, could it?

* * *

Ichigo awoke to a splitting ache in his skull and bright, early morning sunlight shining in his eyes. He instinctively knew he wasn't in his room in the barracks, but he found that he couldn't recall exactly what he was doing before going to sleep, either. Whatever it was, it clearly involved a great deal of alcohol and bad decisions, judging from the horrible taste in his mouth. He groaned and threw an arm over his face. Hopefully he wouldn't get a lecture from Momo later. He found himself hoping hazily that he hadn't stumbled back to Division Five in this state.

Especially since he realized he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. The only thing preserving his last remaining shred of dignity was a thin sheet. When did he take off his clothes? With a groan, Ichigo tried to roll over and found that he barely had the strength.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey-!" a chipper voice called from the direction of the light. Ichigo thought that he vaguely recognized it. It was sweet and light and cheerful, almost like a little song. The corners of his mouth tugged up just a fraction at the sound. Yes, this was...

Shit. Shit! _Shit shit shit!_

Ichigo sat bolt upright, forgetting his earlier discomfort at the bright light pouring in from the east-facing window. His state of undress told him all he needed to know about what had happened last night. That was exactly the sort of thing he was dreading!

He felt the last bit of hope leave him as he looked towards the window to see the silhouette of a chipper woman highlighted against the sunshine. She was combing out her long, auburn hair as she hummed a happy little tune. Even from behind, Ichigo could tell that she was wearing an open yukata and nothing else. As he watched her finish her hair and twist it into a messy tie, he felt his stomach drop like a stone.

Worse yet, when she turned to look at him again, Ichigo inwardly cringed. How could he have been so stupid? How was he going to explain this? He had been way too drunk to even think about going to talk to her, let alone anyone else. And when he actually got there, they did everything _but_ talk.

"Aren't you going to say 'good morning', Kurosaki-kun?" The woman in the window gave him a lovely smile, but that only made him feel even worse. He tried not to grimace as he looked squarely at her. Because as always, her hair, her eyes, her nose, even her breasts - they were all just the same as Orihime. The only exception was the vivid bluish-violet of her eyes. Really, they could've been sisters.

But she wasn't Orihime. And she never had been.

"S-Sorry, Takeko," he murmured sheepishly. "Look, about last night..." The redhead gave Ichigo a puzzled look.

"Eh?" She was eating a small pastry, presumably for breakfast. "What's wrong, Kurosaki-kun? You don't usually wake up looking so grumpy."

He knew it was an affectation; Takeko was normally much more brusque and straight-forward, almost like a man. He'd asked her long ago to act "cuter" around him, and she was nothing if not professional. Yes, it was a shallow attempt to fill Orihime's place when he couldn't see her, and he knew full well how pathetic that made him. But at the time, he'd been willing to play along with it, at least for one night a month.

"I... I've got a lot on my mind right now," he obfuscated. "Look, Takeko... I didn't come here for the usual reason last night." Then after tsking and shaking his head. "Okay, I was really drunk, so I probably _did_ ," he corrected, "But I really just... I came to tell you this is the last time."

Takeko's eyebrows rose as she took in what Ichigo was saying. He didn't want to hurt her, the gods knew, but he couldn't just disappear on her. This was her livelihood, after all - or at least part of it. She didn't seem to be angry, at least. Instead, her expression was slightly curious.

"Ah-?" she asked innocently. With her, Ichigo never knew if the innocent expression was an act or not. "D'you mean because of this?" She held up the latest Seireitei Bulletin and pointed to the picture of her "evil twin" on the cover. Ichigo's ears turned red - redder than they had been, even.

"You saw that, huh?" He put his head in his hand, shaking it in exasperation. "Of course you did."

"She sounds like fun..?" Takeko ventured. Ichigo could tell she was being cautious, and probably fishing for information. It was annoying, but he really couldn't blame her.

"Not like that, she's not," he grumbled. "But yes. She's the reason. She's the reason for... for everything." It was unsaid, but "everything" in this case extended to their relationship, as well, such as it was. Takeko would certainly understand his meaning, in any case; that the reason he'd sought her out was because of her uncanny resemblance to Inoue Orihime.

It wasn't as though there was much emotional investment there on either side, though - not beyond the level of fairly good friends, anyway. Ichigo liked Takeko, in her way, and she certainly held some affection for him. But she could never truly replace who he'd lost, and Takeko always kept a level of professional detachment from her paid dates, as well. And in that way, things had been pretty comfortable between them for a few years.

The sex was great, too, if Ichigo was being honest with himself.

"Are things not going well between you?" she asked, breaking the silence. "I mean, you're here, so..." As frustrating as it was, he did owe her an explanation.

"It's not that," he corrected. "It's just that I didn't want to disappear without saying anything." He allowed himself to sit back down onto the bed, falling heavily with a "whoof". Usually much better at schooling her features, Takeko allowed herself a saucy grin as she moved over to flop beside him.

"Well, you certainly said a lot last night!" She was suppressing a laugh, too, Ichigo realized. "You must be _really_ frustrated these days!" He also noted that she hadn't even bothered to close her open robe. Damn that woman! Just because Orihime kept him in a near-constant state of sexual frustration, did she think he'd go another round with her? He wasn't a man whose conviction was that weak, dammit!

Even he had to admit the possibility was _very_ tempting, though.

"Look, that wasn't...!" he began, struggling to find the right words. "It's not like that! I'm just trying to start out the right way with her! And I didn't want to just ditch you, either." Takeko smiled her understanding. But at the same time, it seemed like she was only just acknowledging that she'd heard what Ichigo had said.

"I'll be fine, silly," she said warmly. "Although..." It was then that Ichigo noticed she was in his personal space. He nearly backed away, but something held him in place.

"You know," she practically purred as she moved closer. "If I'd have known it was our last time, I would've made sure it was _really_ memorable." Ichigo's face burned as Takeko slid one leg over his lap. Blood pounded in his ears and rushed to places he really would have rather it didn't. He could push her off. He could, but...

Well...

There was still a little time left, wasn't there...?

* * *

When Ichigo returned to the Division's grounds, it was well after lunch. But he was at least presentable now; showered, shaved, and not at all hung over. Aside from the lingering guilt, which had led him to get Orihime a few presents on the way back in, one would never even have guessed where he'd been. And that was exactly how he wanted it to stay.

Although if the blonde tornado rapidly approaching from the Divisional offices was any indication, it might not stay that way for very long.

"Oh shit," was all Ichigo could mumble before Rangiku came across his face, closed fisted, like a ton of bricks. She may have looked soft and squishy, but her anger was anything but.

"What the hell was that for?!" Ichigo squawked defensively, one hand attempting to keep his jaw in place. When he looked her in the face, though, Ichigo could see Rangiku's eyes burning with malice.

"You know damn good and well what that was for, you _dog!_ " Even though she'd punched him, she hissed as she spoke. This wasn't about causing a scene, which was Rangiku's normal MO; this was about punishment, pure and simple. And although Ichigo sputtered, he was having a hard time really defending himself. A few seconds later, she was shaking him by the collar.

"I swear," she hissed under breath, "If you ever - _ever_ \- pull anything like this again, I'll make you regret it. This had better have been the very last time, Ichigo. Because we won't lie for you next month."

Ichigo had no doubts she could make good on her threats. Unlike his male friends, Rangiku might have liked her liquor, but she took matters of the heart a bit more seriously. She flirted and had her flings, but she was never deceitful. And she never stepped into another woman's territory with intent. Involving one of her female friends was a quick recipe for ruthlessness.

"It was the last time," he replied under his breath. "I told her goodbye and... it turned into more." Usually Ichigo would've fought anyone who manhandled him like that, but his conscience wouldn't allow him to retaliate now. Satisfied that he was properly contrite - for now - and that her suspicions were correct, Rangiku released his collar.

"You had _better_ make it up to her, Ichigo," she continued. "Even if she never finds out, you owe her that much."

"Is everything okay?"

Ichigo watched in something bordering horror as Rangiku's face melted from a mask of fury into that of a pleasant big sister. She then turned to look at the younger woman who'd approached while they were talking. Orihime stood there wearing an apron over her yukata, holding a rolling pin in her right hand, with a curious smile on her face.

"Oh yes, everything's fine, Orihime-chan!" If he hadn't already been frightened within an inch of his life, this would do it. It was like a switch had flipped. One moment, Rangiku was ready to murder him, and the next she was radiating sweetness and light. "I was just saying hi to Ichigo before I head back to our barracks! _Right_ , Ichigo?" The threat was implied, although the elbow to the side was not.

"Right," he said quickly, only wincing a little. "Hey, Inoue. I hope you weren't worried." Orihime chuckled and held the rolling pin she'd been carrying up for him to see.

"No," she answered warmly. "Although I think I'm supposed to cry or hit you with this because you're neglecting your family - right?" Ichigo knew he'd seen TV comedies like that back when he was alive - oh no. What had Momo and Rangiku told her? He glanced toward Rangiku for an explanation and got a shrug in return. So it was just Orihime being Orihime. Somehow, that was actually very comforting, if not exactly helpful at the moment. Well, hell - only thing to do was to roll with it, then.

"But I brought you presents?" he offered, every bit as humbly as he felt at the moment. "Please... Please forgive me, honey?" Orihime adopted a stern look, but he could tell she was thrilled that he was playing along with her.

"Presents won't win me back this time, you cad! The children and I are g- ooh, is that mochi?" Ichigo gave her a sheepish grin, relieved he didn't have to play the beleaguered salaryman husband anymore. He offered her the boxes and she took them like a child at New Years.

"Yeah," he replied, watching her happily pry them open. "I got some melon-pan for you, too, if you want it." The bakery Ichigo had stopped at specialized in living world snacks. They were slightly different from their "official" counterparts, but close enough for their purposes. He'd become a frequent customer after being detained by Soul Society. Knowing Orihime's penchant for baked goods, it was the closest he could get to donuts.

"Ah! This one's pink! I wonder how they did it?"

He nearly marveled at the difference in her demeanor from even less than a month ago. Even though they'd had their arguments, she had become a lot more like her old self. Ichigo couldn't help but smile as she exclaimed over the boxes of baked goods. From Rangiku's expression, it seemed like she was fairly pleased with this turn of events, as well.

"Well, then!" she said, with a little clap of her hands. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to work out your marital problems! Ichigo~! Remember what we talked about!"

Ichigo watched Rangiku walk away with a flick of her upheld hand, waving a goodbye. It was as though the shadow of death had just passed over him. His face was surely betraying some of his utter mortification. He hated being beholden to anyone, let alone to Rangiku. He'd be lucky if this didn't turn into outright blackmail.

But looking back to Orihime and her open face, the chill in Ichigo's bones warmed. His face softened into a sheepish smile, too, and she returned it gladly. He realized that whatever had happened before now was in the past; from here on out, they'd start over. He'd make things right with her this time. Extending his elbow, he looked expectantly at her. She hesitantly slid her hand through the crook and smiled shyly as they began to walk back towards the offices.

"Were you cooking?" he asked hopefully. Orihime's face lit up, forgetting to be nervous because of Ichigo's closeness.

"Eh heh, no," she chuckled, "I just wanted to be in character when you came in!" Then, after thinking for a moment, she stammered, "Wh-Why? Did... Did you want me to?" Ichigo's eyebrows rose; it was almost as if she thought he wouldn't want her to cook for him.

"Sure, Inoue," he said with a smile, "It's been a while since I've had your food. Make it extra weird, okay?"

Orihime looked like she'd just won the lottery. She hugged Ichigo's arm tightly, her happiness infectious. Despite the day's beginning, Ichigo couldn't help but think they were on the right track now.


	9. The Little Things

* * *

Ichigo was stuck.

It had been a few days since the mid-month bender, and so far he'd had zero ideas on how to pursue Orihime properly. It wasn't as if he'd ever had a normal love life. He hadn't dated as a teenager (obviously) and he had stubbornly refused to open his heart to anyone in Soul Society. So he was left precious few ideas on how to approach this situation.

Worse, he had few people to ask for advice. Momo had given him a few of her novels in an effort to be helpful, but there was only so much he could read of melancholy nobles pondering life's deep sadnesses and lost inheritances before he gave up. Chances are, Orihime wouldn't find that sort of thing romantic anyway.

His male friends were next to no help, as well. He didn't dare ask Kensei or Shuuhei again - there was no telling where Mashiro was lurking. Iba didn't bother with womanly things like this; he was likely to give him a pair of sunglasses and send him on his way. Renji and Shinji would be worse than no help at all. And Rangiku would just spend every kan he had and claim it was for Orihime.

So it was back to Thirteenth Division again.

"Hmm," Rukia hummed, mulling over Ichigo's problem from behind her Vice Captain's desk. "This is becoming quite common, isn't it? You asking my help." Ichigo bristled.

"You don't need to tell me," he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. "You know I'm no good at this stuff." Rukia clucked her tongue as Ichigo leaned back in the chair opposite her, eyes now facing the ceiling. He could tell she was trying her best not to mock him, and that pity made him more annoyed. Of course, she was probably also annoyed he hadn't come to her first instead of Kensei. But he'd gotten his just desserts for that, too.

"Well, in that case I shall aid you as best I can," she replied with only a hint of sarcasm. He knew it was pathetic. She didn't have to rub it in.

"You know Inoue better than probably anybody here," Ichigo implored, watching Rukia raise one plucked eyebrow. "What would be romantic to _her?"_

"Are you certain?" Rukia asked skeptically.

"Dammit, Rukia! I've never been more certain of anything in my life!"

"Not about dating Orihime," Rukia scoffed, "I meant are you sure _I'm_ the one who should be answering this. Who knows her best? You fool."

Ichigo was about to reply tartly before he stopped short. Rukia was right (as usual). Rukia had only spent a little time with Orihime in the land of the living. Sure, she was probably her best girlfriend in Soul Society, but who here had spent the most time with her? Who had known her since she was in junior high?

A jolt shook Ichigo as he realized _he_ had spent more time with Orihime than anyone else in Soul Society. It should actually have been no problem for him to come up with some way to get closer to her. As this realization dawned on him, Rukia's smug smile penetrated his thoughts.

"You understand now, yes?"

Ichigo nodded with determined purpose. He had an idea. He had several, in fact.

"Rukia, I need you to do me another favor."

* * *

The week since Ichigo's "business meeting" had been like a dream for Orihime. He had been over her shoulder for most of it, even going so far as to let her know when he'd be off divisional grounds, with whom, and for how long. Far from feeling smothered, it made her feel warm and accepted. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was trying to make something up to her. But Orihime wasn't trying to think that hard about the situation.

Even better, Momo seemed to appreciate the situation, too. Any personal assistant duties - making coffee, running errands, securing lunch - were now strictly Orihime's domain. Momo was able to solely concentrate on divisional duties. This seemed to suit the black-haired girl just fine.

Momo had even taken to entertaining visitors from other divisions more often as a result, which Orihime was happy to help with. On such occasions, Ichigo tended to give a wide berth, particularly if the visitors were female. He seemed to be avoiding Rangiku in particular, although Orihime figured he was just wary of her somehow digging into his bank account again.

One of their most frequent visitors was Hirako Shinji, the blond man who'd posed as their classmate once upon a time. He'd been given a position ("Reinstated, actually," he was quick to point out) as the Captain of Eighth Division, as its old Captain had vacated the position in favor of First. This was a long and complicated story that the blond never seemed keen to elaborate on, and Orihime didn't try to force the issue. Instead, he had begun to frequent their offices to flirt with the pretty girls, much to Ichigo's constant chagrin. Their bickering was entertaining and had more than once flustered Momo - according to Rangiku, Shinji had been teasing the black-haired girl for some time. Whether it was to irritate Toushiro or Hiyori, she hadn't been able to say. Either way, it was enough to amuse Orihime.

It was encouraging, when she thought about it. When Orihime had first died, she had wanted to leave every one of her old friends behind as quickly as possible. Now she couldn't imagine a day without all of them. She hadn't felt this alive since she was a teenager, which was quite a feat for a dead woman.

About two weeks went by before Orihime noticed something odd. While straightening Ichigo's desk in the afternoons, she began to come across packages from the human world. They had postage from Karakura and beyond, and most seemed to be from bookstores. Ichigo never opened them in front of her, and never showed her what they contained. She let three slip through her fingers, only remarking to Ichigo that he had mail before her curiosity got the better of her. He told her nearly everything else, but why wasn't he telling her about what this was?

Finally, when she saw the fourth package on his desk, she couldn't take it anymore. It was killing her not to know - or at least she thought she could rationalize it that way. She didn't _technically_ know of anyone who'd died of curiosity, but why take that risk? Besides, she had already died once! Who knew what would happen if she died a second time? She might reincarnate into a frog or a snail or a dung beetle. Better to be safe than to be a dung beetle!

With that thought in mind, Orihime waited until Ichigo's office was clear before creeping towards his desk. All the while, it was as if she was performing for an invisible audience, pretending to be engaged in dusting and reorganizing papers that weren't disorganized in the first place. Finally reaching his desk, she bent over to straighten a pencil and "accidentally" knocked the package off into the floor with her elbow.

"Oops!" she proclaimed to the empty office, probably a bit too triumphantly for her purposes, "It _accidentally_ fell on the floor!" Like lightning, she had ducked behind Ichigo's desk to retrieve it. Instead of placing it on the desk, however, she stayed crouched down with the parcel, huddling close to the floor. Now she could finally see what was inside!

Prying at a corner of the package, she slowly began to pull apart the glue seal holding it together. After another moment, she'd wiggled enough of the envelope loose to be able to see part of the cover of the book inside.

" _Fist of the Bizarre_ , volume ten," she whispered, her eyes growing wide. This was the manga series Ichigo had borrowed from her years ago when they were in their senior year of high school. It had finished after he'd left for Soul Society, but Orihime never had the heart to read the last five volumes without him, let alone the three sequel series that had come out since then.

"I'll let you borrow them," she heard Ichigo call from the doorway. "You don't have to squat behind my desk to read them." Orihime made a noise half-way between a scream and a squeak as she popped up... and subsequently smashed her head on his desk. Brushes and ink pots rattled from the impact.

"O-Ow oww! I-I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun!" She rose from behind the desk, package in hand and rubbing the new knot on her head with a particularly guilty expression. "I just didn't want to turn into a dung beetle!" Ichigo looked baffled.

"A dung..." He shook his head, clearly understanding that this comment was the result of some inner argument of hers and that he might never get it. As he spoke, he came around the desk and offered Orihime a hand up. "Anyway, I _wanted_ it to be a surprise. I figured we could read them together. You... didn't read the ending already, did you?" Orihime shook her head vigorously as she stood.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "I kept meaning to, but I just never... never got around to it!" Ichigo grinned cheekily when she said that. If he noticed she was about to say "never could bring myself to do it", he didn't let on like it.

"Good," he replied, taking the package from her and shaking the last three volumes onto the desk. "That way you won't spoil me." Orihime's eyes went wide as she remembered what he was referring to.

"I said I was sorry! I thought you'd already read the end of _Galaxy Trigger 999_!" she nearly whined, recalling something that had happened in high school. "Besides, was it that much of a spoiler that they were brothers all along?" When Ichigo's stern gaze told her that it was, she continued unabated. "Gosh, it was the same plot twist as _Clockwork Steel_ , Kurosaki-kun..."

"You spoiled that one for me, too," he grumbled, half-kidding. "And I had at least 70 hours in at that point." At least Orihime hoped he was only half-serious - he might not let her read his manga! Besides, that was an RPG, it was completely different!

Still, Orihime was dazzled. As Ichigo shelved the books in a partially hidden alcove of one of his office bookshelves, she noticed he had the whole series now. Had they been here the whole time he'd been getting packages and she hadn't noticed? As she watched, she felt an old urge that she hadn't felt in years - she wanted to read comics and play video games. All this time, she'd thought she'd outgrown them. But maybe that wasn't actually the case.

"Ku-Kurosaki-kun?" She was fiddling with her hands, suddenly nervous for no good reason. Had he gotten these for her? Or for both of them? The thought made her a little giddy.

"Yeah?" He looked up from sliding the last book into place and quirked a curious eyebrow at her.

"May I... May I read them?" She was as red as Ichigo's hair now, she was sure of it. Ichigo simply looked stumped before he gave her a soft smile.

"Of course, Inoue," he replied. Then, in a flash, his soft countenance flickered away again and was replaced with the no-nonsense Gotei Captain. "But no spoilers this time!" Orihime's lower lip immediately jutted upward in a firm pout.

"Yosh! I promise!" she said back almost reflexively. "But you have to read along with me! Otherwise it's no fun!" Most people wouldn't have noticed the slight change in Ichigo's demeanor at that point, but Orihime did. His smirk was mischievous and there was a small twinkle in his eye as he looked at her.

"That was what I had planned," he answered, "Actually, why don't we set aside an evening this week and just read them all after work?" Orihime's heart thudded in her ears. She saw Ichigo a lot, but he was mostly working or busy when he saw her. Sure, they did things together, but it mostly felt like it did in high school - close friends, but still with a distance between them.

"Umm, s-sure!" she replied a bit too quickly. "Wh-Where did you h-have in mind?" Orihime knew she had to keep a tight reign on her imagination at just that moment. If not, she'd surely imagine something inappropriate and incapacitate herself. Having already been married, her imagination wasn't always very innocent anymore.

"You can stop by my room later on," Ichigo offered, clearly oblivious to the havoc he was wrecking on Orihime's emotions. She forced herself to focus through it and not sputter. She wasn't a teenager anymore, darn it! She should have been beyond things like this! The heat spreading across her nose told her she wasn't, though. Why did he have to be so confident about everything when she was anything but?

"O-Okay!" she squeaked, her back straight as a rod. Could she really do it? Go into Ichigo's room, by herself, with Ichigo, at night? Ichigo just smiled warmly, giving her an encouraging look.

"Alright," he replied. "I'll see you there after work."

* * *

Alright, he had this.

When Ichigo asked Orihime back to his room earlier that day, he'd had to swallow his hesitation. He'd never flinched inviting her to his room in high school, but then he hadn't really thought about it much either. She was just a close friend that brought bread over sometimes. Granted, he'd had his fair share of impure thoughts about her then - every guy in their class had - but Ichigo was able to shelve that far, far back in his mind when he needed to.

But now they were adults, and he could invite her back to his room whenever he wanted. He'd have been lying if he said he didn't hope something more than reading manga happened, but he wasn't going to push things. No, she had to come to him. He had made up his mind on that point, and Ichigo could be stubborn beyond measure when it counted.

Besides which, this wasn't even all he'd intended to do. Ichigo had pulled a few favors through Akon and had set up for a bit more electrical wiring to be run throughout the barracks - specifically to Orihime's room. The Captain's and Vice Captain's offices had it already - hence the working coffee pot and microwave - but most of the Seireitei had bare bones power. He'd also ordered her a few toys from the human world, things he knew she'd like: a tv with a connection to the human world, a radio, a handheld game system. If anyone was suspicious of the sudden influx of living world entertainment, they didn't let on.

Either way, when she knocked on his door a bit after seven, Ichigo had to steel himself. For a moment, he forgot himself and was that nervous teenager again. Then, as if stepping into a battle, he bit back his nerves and answered the door. Orihime stood on the other side, a puzzled look on her face.

"A-ah-? I-If it's not a good time, I can come back?" Ichigo realized he must have been scowling with grim determination. He smoothed his expression and tamped down his reiatsu sheepishly. His body had reacted like it was an actual battle.

"N-No, that's fine!" he said, stepping back. Great, he sounded nervous now. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Come in." He stepped out of the way and let Orihime in. With his adrenaline pumping, he noticed her every movement. She was hesitantly checking out his room and trying to be subtle about it. It was endearing, like watching a kitten explore.

"Oh, I-! I wasn't scared!" Orihime corrected him, brushing some stray hair behind her ear. "You just had such a serious look on your face, like you were going into battle, I thought..." Dammit, she knew him too well. Or was he really that obvious? Ichigo could tell he was blushing, even though he tried not to.

"No, I... It was work-related, so don't worry about it." Was that too dismissive? Or would it make her suspicious? Ichigo shifted gears quickly, deciding instead to move to the next subject. "You can sit down, if you want." Orihime went from puzzled to flustered in a second.

"W-Where should I sit?" she asked, looking around nervously. Ichigo saw her cast surreptitious glances at his bed, probably recalling the times she'd been in his room in high school. He didn't let anyone sit on his bed back then. Orihime had been the one exception; he knew she wouldn't trash it and it wasn't like he could tell her no, anyway.

Ichigo had thought ahead this time, though. There was a low table in the middle of the sparsely decorated room with two fat cushions on opposite sides. On the table sat the manga, some snacks he'd picked up from a nearby bakery, and a few pieces of fruit. It looked casual, but he'd actually gone to the trouble of finding out Orihime's favorite bakery and had arranged the snacks on the table at least five times over by then. Had they still been in the human world, he'd have thrown some canned iced coffee or tea on there, too, but as that wasn't available here, he'd settled for a small teapot instead. It wasn't anything fancy, but if she wanted something to drink, he had it.

Eventually, she lighted on one of the cushions. She was fidgeting just as much as she did back in high school, rearranging her hair, shifting the cushion, examining her fingers; it was just as endearing as it was back then, too. Ichigo flopped down across from her, trying to appear casual; the effort made him look like a cross between a mannequin and a dead fish, but Ichigo managed to convince himself otherwise. Besides, actually sitting down would be the easiest thing he'd have to do tonight.

"There's snacks if you want them," he said, causing Orihime's head to snap up as he spoke. "I already read the first volume yesterday, so you can have it. I'll take the second." Was it businesslike and to the point? Sure, but Orihime didn't seem to mind. She reacted as if he'd complimented her intimately anyway, blushing and nodding eagerly while glancing off to the side. Was she daydreaming something? Whatever it was, she grabbed the book quickly and hid all but her eyes behind it. Not wanting to appear too nervous, Ichigo did the same with volume two.

They read in silence for what seemed like forever. Ichigo couldn't really say he was getting into it, though. He couldn't concentrate with Orihime there. His mind kept wandering to what she was doing, if she was enjoying herself, how she thought of him. It was eating at him. He read the same panels over and over, hardly comprehending them. How could anyone even _think_ when they were in love?

This wasn't something he could fight his way out of. He couldn't hit it with a sword and make it go away, and he couldn't outflank it. He couldn't outsmart it and talk his way out of it. Out of all the opponents he'd ever faced, he'd only been afraid of a couple. But he was afraid of this feeling, when he got right down to it. Because Orihime held all power over him now; with just a word, she could decimate him. And she didn't even know it.

In fact, after her initial fidgetiness, Orihime had managed to make herself at home. She was reading quickly, almost through with the first volume while Ichigo hadn't even made his way through half of the second. Whatever hesitation she'd entered the room with was forgotten now, supplanted by her reading. If she continued at the pace she was going, she'd be finished before Ichigo.

Then again, he couldn't really concentrate anyway. With a sigh, he flopped back onto the floor, holding the manga over his head before covering his face with it. Well, if nothing else, he'd figured out something she liked. He just couldn't seem to key himself down enough to make it work as a date.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

He pulled the manga away from his face to see Orihime leaning towards him from around the table. She held the closed manga volume she'd been reading. He assumed she was done with it.

"Yeah, Inoue?"

"Are you done with that one?" Her eyes were hopeful. Even though Ichigo hadn't finished with it, he couldn't tell her no. Besides, he was pretty sure he remembered how this one ended, at least enough to read the next volume. He gave Orihime a warm smile and handed the manga over.

"Sure," he answered. Orihime grinned and took the manga from him before placing volume three in his hand.

"Here's the next one!" she chirped, clearly enjoying herself. Ichigo forgot his nervousness and lost himself to her carefree attitude. This was more of what he'd hoped for. If she was happy and easy going, it would make it easier for him to relax, too.

"Thanks, Inoue." Maybe he let his finger brush hers for a second too long when she handed it off. She blushed for a second before giving him a goofy grin and turning back to the volume she'd just gotten from him. It was promising.

Feeling closer than ever to his original goal, Ichigo dug into volume three. He was actually able to concentrate this time, too.

* * *

By the time Ichigo looked up from reading and checked, it was after midnight. He'd been so busy reading - and stopping between volumes to chat with Orihime about plot developments - that he'd lost track of time. With a groan, he stood and stretched. The floor wasn't exactly the most comfortable place to spend most of the night.

"Hey, Inoue," he said, stifling a yawn. She replied with a "hmm?" and looked up from the volume she was working on. "It's about time to call it a night. I have work in the morning." Orihime looked mildly offended.

"I do too, you know," she nearly pouted. Even though she wasn't an "official" part of Division Five, she took her responsibilities seriously. But she closed the manga she was reading and held it close to her chest as she rose from her spot on the floor. Ichigo simply raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Technically, I'm your boss," he reminded her with a small smirk. "I can give you the day off if you want." Orihime looked scandalized.

"You better not!" she fussed. "I don't want any special treatment!" Ichigo broke into a full grin at her protest. So she'd been thinking of special treatment, huh?

"You'd have to _do_ something special first to get special treatment," he said, emphasizing it in just such a way that it could be taken two ways. It wasn't anything he wouldn't say to anyone else in his division, but maybe there was a bit of a different emphasis when he said it to her. Orihime clearly got the hint, though, since she blinked and then broke into a full blush.

"And then your division would get mad and kick me out!" she retorted, breaking into a smile. "I'd have to go live in the slums and make a living selling food that I grew in my garden and weaving sandals. And since people who aren't shinigami don't eat, and everyone already has sandals to wear, I wouldn't make any money and I'd die alone, in poverty, probably in the snow." Ichigo tried not to break into a grin.

"Inoue, you aren't going to die in the snow selling vegetables." Orihime doubled down, her expression turning mock serious.

"But it's a possibility!" she fired back. "And then Momo-san would have to do both our jobs again, and there's no telling what would happen to you! So it's just better not to tempt fate." She ended her diatribe with a firm nod and arms crossed across her chest. Ichigo finally lost his internal battle and laughed in spite of himself.

"I'm being serious!" she pouted. Ichigo was sure she was only half-serious there. His laughter dissolved into a smile as he moved to usher her to the door.

"I know you are," he soothed, "But even you have to admit that probably won't happen." As he moved towards her, Orihime watched with a somewhat thoughtful expression.

"Well," she conceded, "Probably not..." Ichigo regarded her with a warm smile before escorting her toward the door.

"Good, then," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a bit. "In that case, I'll see you first thing tomorrow, alright?" Orihime nodded with a little "mmph" for emphasis. But still she didn't move from the doorway.

For a moment, both of them seemed frozen. Ichigo didn't know why; it seemed like she should've turned and gone by then, yet she was lingering there, indecisive. Her eyes searched his face curiously, as though she had asked him some kind of question. It was like she was waiting for him to do or say something. As warmth began to spread across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, Ichigo realized that she was probably expecting a goodnight kiss.

Steeling himself, Ichigo's face abruptly hardened into a determined scowl. He could do this. All he had to do was bend down and kiss her - closed mouth, just a little peck. It wouldn't be that hard. They were only a half a meter or so apart, he could close the distance in a second. Even as he thought that, he was already drifting into her orbit, slowly getting closer on his own. Orihime still stared at him, appearing just a little intimidated.

Suddenly, Orihime ducked her head with a squeak and zipped out of the doorway. The spell having been broken, Ichigo stared down the hallway after her with wide eyes, keenly aware that he'd just barely missed having his jaw smashed by her rock-hard head. In sympathy, he rubbed his jawline where she nearly hit him.

"G-Goodnight, Kurosaki-kun! I'll see you in the morning!" He waved meekly after her, not exactly sure what the situation called for.

"Night, Inoue. See you tomorrow..."

As she vanished around the corner of the hallway, headed toward her room, Ichigo couldn't see Orihime cover her face with her hands. It was reflexive, something she did without really thinking, but it served to hide her burning cheeks well. He had looked so intense just then! Her knees had felt like jelly just from standing so close to him, and it wasn't just from his reiatsu. Of course, that had been pretty heavy for a few seconds too, just like when he opened the door to let her in. Was he as nervous as she was? Orihime nearly turned a corner right into a wall from the distraction. Righting herself, she continued on to her room.

As soon as she was well outside of his earshot, Orihime let loose a girlish squeal, hands still covering her face as she swayed from side-to-side. She nearly danced as her feet pattered against the floor as rapidly as a heartbeat. They had almost kissed! She was sure of it!

Of course, now the question was how she could ever face him tomorrow.


	10. Shower of Light

* * *

Once again, Ichigo was stumped.

He was no pick-up artist, no strategist. The workings of the heart were usually a mystery to him. Sure, he could see obvious feelings, but beyond that, he was still fairly naive.

The "first date", as he'd begun to think of it to himself, had gone swimmingly. Hell, if he hadn't been so nervous and lost control of his reiatsu for a second, he'd even have given Orihime a goodnight kiss. But his nerves had gotten the better of him and that possibility had gone out the window. Still, it was hard not to see their date as a success.

In fact, Orihime had been a bit more flustered around him in the couple of days since then. She seemed to turn pink and stammer whenever she first saw Ichigo, especially if he suddenly looked at her. It was charming, in its way; Ichigo was gratified to know that he had a similar effect on her to the one she had on him. And there was no mistaking her feelings, even for someone as emotionally stunted as Ichigo. At least that's what he told himself, and by the gods, he believed it.

So as he was in the midst of feeling out his next move, a stroke of luck walked into his office in a Captain's haori. Ichigo suddenly became aware of his colleague's presence on the periphery of his hearing, as the other Captain had stopped in the Lieutenant's office and had attempted to go no further. No, he was there to see Momo.

Ichigo peeked around the frame of his door to see Hitsugaya Toushiro standing in front of Momo's desk, seeming more frustrated and grumpy than usual. Ichigo watched with mild curiosity as the white-haired Captain spoke to the Fifth Division second-in-command.

"It's this Sunday night, you know," Toushiro groused, eyes barely open. "And my seated officers are all going, anyway." Momo looked politely curious, but seemed to be just as clued in to what he was talking about as Ichigo was.

"Ah?" she asked, echoing Ichigo's cluelessness. Even not knowing exactly what divisional event was going on, Ichigo figured the scene before him was painfully obvious; Toushiro was trying to ask Momo out on a date.

Well. He didn't know the little guy had it in him. Except that he'd actually grown a couple of centimeters in the past few years so he wasn't as little anymore, and that Rangiku had teased Momo about just such a thing several times in front of Ichigo. Other than that, Ichigo was impressed.

"So, I mean," the younger-looking Captain continued, "If you wanted, you could come with us." Now Ichigo was curious. If there was a divisional event happening, he definitely wanted to know.

"Eh? Sure, Shiro-chan," she said with a smile. Ichigo watched with fascination as Toushiro's icy countenance melted into a slight blush. "This is the first I've heard about it, so I doubt our division is doing anything like that." Ichigo was unable to contain his curiosity.

"Hey, Toushiro," he acknowledged the other Captain as he stepped out of his office. "Anything like what?"

"Kurosaki," Toushiro responded in kind. He had long ago accepted that Ichigo would never stop referring to him so casually, especially since they were both Captains now. Ichigo could tell it probably still made his teeth itch, though.

"Ah, Captain!" Momo said happily. She was probably relieved he'd interrupted, if the blush spreading across her nose was any indication. "Shiro-chan ( _"Hitsugaya-taichou, Momo."_ ) has invited us stargazing with his division!" Ichigo watched in morbid fascination as the normally unflappable Captain became flustered.

"I was inviting _you_ , dammit!"

" _Language_ ," Momo corrected him before turning back to Ichigo. "Anyway, they're going to eat dango and watch the meteor shower that's supposed to happen Sunday night. There's even going to be fireworks at the end. Doesn't that sound fun?" Ichigo suddenly understood; Toushiro was asking Momo to share his picnic blanket for the star viewing. In fact, it was just as likely that Rangiku had organized the entire thing specifically to matchmake the two childhood friends. Momo seemed blissfully unaware of the possibility, though.

"Sure," he said nonchalantly, "I give my permission for you to go. Just have her back by 1 am, alright?" Ichigo secretly enjoyed the fact that Momo's color now lived up to her name, and that Hitsugaya looked so absolutely flustered.

"Y-You're not my father!"

"It's not a date!"

They had both squawked simultaneously, and Ichigo couldn't have been more pleased. Just as he was about to go for another round, there was an audible gasp at the office door.

"Ahhhh-!"

Orihime was standing in the doorway of the office, her mouth rounded into a perfect "o". Before Ichigo could say anything, Orihime rushed into the room, yukata sleeves flapping, and came to stand before Toushiro, looking up at the just slightly taller white haired boy.

"Are you... Are you Toushiro-kun's older brother, by any chance?" Once again, Toushiro looked abashed. Before he could answer, though, Momo interrupted.

"It's him!" she helpfully supplied, causing Orihime to look around him towards Momo in fascination. "He's grown a little since that time he stayed with you!"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" he fussed. "And it's Hitsugaya-taicho!" It was as if he hadn't said anything at all.

"Oi, Inoue."

Orihime simultaneously perked up and flushed pink. Ichigo couldn't deny he got a small rush from that. Regardless of the slight uptick in his heart rate, he folded his arms and leaned on the doorframe of his office. What he was going to do next required his undivided concentration.

"Y-Yes?"

"Toushiro here was just inviting Momo to his division's stargazing party," he explained, causing Momo and Toushiro both to look mildly embarrassed. "Do you wanna go too?"

"Did you just invite yourself?" Toushiro mumbled, ruffling his spiky hair. No one paid him much mind.

"Ah-! O-Okay!" Orihime said, her cheeks glowing pink. "Do I need to bring anything?" At this question, Ichigo turned to Toushiro. The other Captain puffed like a wet bird.

"Oh, _now_ you want my opinion," he groused. "Not really. We'll have refreshments, if you want. Matsumoto's going all out this time. You should still bring your own blanket, though." Before Orihime could do much more than look starstruck, Ichigo cut in.

"Don't worry about it, Inoue," he said, pushing away from the doorframe. "I'll take care of that. Just wear one of your nice yukata, okay?" Orihime stood straight as a rod as she addressed Ichigo.

"R-Right!"

Before anything else could be said, Orihime turned to rush right back out the door, her lips pursed and her face flushed. The other three watched her go just as quickly as she'd arrived.

"It's not til Sunday, Inoue," Ichigo called after her, causing her to nearly trip. "You've still got a few days!"

"U-Uhn!"

She still vanished around the corner, leaving the others to watch in fascination. Secretly, though, it filled Ichigo with something related to pride that he'd gotten her flustered like that. Asking her out hadn't been nearly as intimidating as he'd thought it would be.

"Tch," Toushiro tsk'd. "Now all we have to do is keep Matsumoto occupied until then."

* * *

As it turned out, they needn't have worried much about Rangiku. Of course she teased all four parties - Momo most of all, because her reaction was the most entertaining. Toushiro was a close second, since he was perpetually prickly around the bubbly blonde. Then was Ichigo, who was like a cat that had had his orange fur stroked backwards. Teasing Orihime was hardly worth it, since the two women were so alike in temperament that it hardly registered to the younger lady as "teasing".

Orihime, though, was a bundle of nerves. She hadn't been on a date in years, and certainly never on one for which she was this excited. Was it even really a date? And if so, what should she expect? She had no shortage of pretty clothes to wear, at least, but she'd feel bad if she didn't at least bring something for them to eat.

Rukia was hit with all of these questions and more, as Orihime decided to turn to her for help. The black-haired woman looked slightly amused as Orihime related her concerns to her in the Thirteenth Division offices.

"Ichigo will be happy you decided to show up at all," Rukia reassured her, which really did not assuage her nerves one bit. "And yes, you should probably consider it a date." While the older woman seemed pleased with herself, the effect on Orihime was probably the opposite of what was planned. In fact, Orihime turned almost as red as her hair.

"Y-You really think so...?" she stammered. "Kurosaki-kun... is really asking me out on a date? B-But all this time, he's never..." Rukia's mouth hung open in disbelief for a moment before she spoke again.

"Of course he is, Orihime," she finally replied. "I would wager he's been looking for the opportunity for a while, actually." Rukia spoke with such conviction that Orihime briefly wondered if she was a mind reader. Either way, it was causing her brain to short circuit.

"But then... if it's a date... what am I supposed to do? Should I make a special dinner? Or buy wine? Or wear lacy panties?" Rukia blinked slowly, as though she didn't quite believe what she was hearing.

"No wine," Rukia stated emphatically, knowing that Ichigo already had a bad relationship with alcohol. Then, skeptically she asked, "Have you never been on a date before, Orihime?" Orihime blushed and looked down at her feet, gently running her tabi along the floor.

"Well, yes," she said hesitantly. "I mean, Uryuu took me to lunch sometimes, if that's what you're asking. B-But it was never anything like this!" Rukia's plucked eyebrows rose as a mischievous smile spread across her lips.

"Hoooh? So that inexperienced Ichigo actually managed to stump the gay divorcee? That devil - I must admit that I've underestimated him." Orihime felt flustered all over again. She was completely unused to being fussed over in such a manner. And if she'd ever been asked, she would have easily said that Ichigo would never have to worry so much about her approval. Nothing he could do would make her truly unhappy with him again. Although she thought it was a bit strange for Rukia to refer to her as a divorcee.

"Kuchiki-san..." she began, glancing off to the side, "Are you saying..."

"Hmm?" Rukia murmured from behind her coffee cup. "That he's partial to you? Don't be ridiculous, Orihime." Orihime's heart flipped over and sank, a wave of ice running down her back.

"Of course he is, you silly girl."

And just like that, it subsided, followed by a warm rush as her heart began to beat again. Orihime knew she was blushing, and she didn't care.

"Th-Thank you, Kuchiki-san!" Rukia simply looked stunned.

"You mean you didn't know...?"

But Orihime hardly heard her. There was so much she had to do between then and Sunday evening!

* * *

As sunset approached that Sunday, Ichigo's palms were beginning to sweat. Of course, part of it was obviously the warm weather; it was still summer, after all. But he was also still nervous. So, biting a dango ferociously, he stalked the edges of the Tenth Division's picnic, looking for an unclaimed spot to lay down his blanket and lantern.

There were already blankets dotting the gently rolling hills, most of the division having taken their place by then. Some were chatting with friends and some were obviously on dates. Most were munching on snacks or drinking hot tea out of mugs. It was very nearly the middle of summer, but the nights still got a bit cooler after sunset.

Finally, in the middle of the din, Ichigo spotted a perfect spot underneath a leafy elm tree. It was just shady enough to be cool and he was frankly a little surprised that no one had taken it yet. His white haori clearing a wide berth, he quickly moved right to the spot and unrolled the blanket. As he plopped down, arms folded and scowl firmly in place, the shinigami around him didn't dare do more than whisper.

"Ichigooooooo!"

All heads turned at the sound of the familiar voice. The blonde and her caramel-haired captive came bounding over the hill, hand-in-hand. Ichigo seemed decidedly less enthused about seeing Rangiku with Orihime than the male shinigami surrounding them did. Still, the sight of the woman of his dreams, running up the hill and waving at him, was enough to convince him to swallow that irritation.

To begin with, both women looked stunning. For once, Rangiku had chosen something appropriate instead of flashy - a dark blue yukata with cream and blush flowers, tied together with a yellow and orange obi. It was surprisingly mature for Rangiku, although the deep neckline didn't escape Ichigo's scowl. It certainly hadn't escaped her entourage either, he thought caustically.

It was also clear that Rangiku had helped Orihime dress. She was again dressed in light colors appropriate for a young ingénue, with sleeves that brushed her waist. Her hair had been done up with a cute kanzashi made of trailing green and yellow silk flowers for the season. But the dead giveaway that Rangiku had her fingers in this was that her shell pink yukata had been arranged to accentuate her generous cleavage, the collar open down to the obi at her waist. Ichigo scowled as his eyes lighted on it. He was sure Rangiku had done it to tempt him, but it frustrated him for two reasons.

First was the obvious reason: the men surrounding them were obviously enchanted by it. Orihime normally had her share of fans in his division, but introducing her to a new group - one that his father used to lead, no less - was like introducing honey to bees. Rangiku, who was quite popular herself, certainly didn't help matters any. The end result was that they were surrounded by a flock of young men, each starstruck by the divisional idols. It wouldn't even bother Ichigo as much if Orihime herself chose to dress like that, but he knew better.

That was actually a total lie, he realized ruefully as he stood. He'd still be chafed by it.

The second reason, of course, was that he'd have to spend a good portion of his time avoiding looking at Orihime that night, when all he'd hoped for was to spend some time with her. As much as he'd love to look at her chest, it just wasn't appropriate, and by the gods, he wasn't going down that road.

Shaking his head of the frustration, he turned to meet the two girls and their growing gaggle of admirers. Orihime ran happily over to him with a wide smile. She dangled a drawstring purse and a satchel with a few boxes in it from her free hand.

"Hey, Inoue," he addressed her, ignoring her escort and the several men who looked aggrieved at Ichigo's presence. He knew he wasn't very well-liked outside of his own division by the rank and file, and now with Orihime being openly friendly with him, the hostility from the other men was barely disguised. With a sharp look, he flared his reiatsu ever-so-slightly, causing them to back away as quickly as possible to save face. Even they would know they were no match for him. Orihime blinked, probably not having seen the problem.

"What was that?" she asked innocently as the remaining men melted into the surrounding crowd.

"Geez, you didn't have to scare them away, Ichigo," Rangiku groused. Ichigo figured she was well on her way to conning drinks from a few of them. Well, she could do that away from him and Orihime, and he gave her an icy look to let her know it.

"You didn't have to bring them over, either," Ichigo responded dryly. Rangiku put her hands on her hips while Ichigo offered Orihime his elbow. She looked dazzled for a moment before lacing her arm through the loop in his.

"Don't be jealous, Ichigo," Rangiku said with a smile. She barreled ahead before he could respond. "Anyway, don't you think Orihime-chan just looks good enough to eat? I helped her get ready myself!" Ichigo felt his blood pressure rise as the girl beside him began to slowly blush.

"Don't say it like that!" he protested. He couldn't tell if it was a normal double-entendre, or if she was poking fun at his hollow, and didn't care either way. He wasn't going to discuss something like that where everyone could hear! _Either_ "something" like that! Rangiku gave him an absolutely devilish look at his protest.

"Anyway," she trilled, "I have to help keep this event running smoothly. I'll see you two lovebirds later!" Ichigo seriously thought he might develop a twitch then and there. Orihime just laughed lightly as she waved goodbye to her friend. Ichigo flopped back onto the blanket with a huff.

"I swear, she'll be the death of me," he muttered, ruffling his hair. Orihime sat across from him on the blanket, folding her legs beneath her demurely. He thought ruefully that Orihime wasn't even aware of half the dirt Rangiku had on him, and he wanted it to stay that way.

"It's alright, Kurosaki-kun," she said sweetly, glancing off to the side, "She means well." Ichigo leaned back on his hands, very nearly pouting.

"I wish she'd mean well somewhere away from me," he fussed. Before Orihime could read too much into it, he changed the subject. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh! I made bento for us!" Ichigo perked up at the news. He watched expectantly as Orihime unpacked the two colorful boxes from her kerchief. He figured it might not be exactly normal to eat them on a star-gazing picnic, but who cared? He'd never had a girl who wasn't his sister make him a boxed lunch before, and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity now. As Orihime offered the cute box to him, she bowed her head over it. "I-I hope you like it!"

Ichigo didn't know what he was expecting, but when he opened the lid, he was still blown away. It wasn't anything strange, really, but it was neat and tidy, adorable even. There were apples peeled into the shape of bunnies in one compartment, octopus-shaped sausages in another, and a large compartment of rice. A heart-shape had been dyed into the middle of the rice, probably with the juice from the pickled plum that was stuck right in the middle of the heart.

Ichigo felt an odd feeling come over him as a smile spread across his lips. It wasn't quite happiness - it was closer to "nostalgia", although it was a nostalgia for something he'd never experienced firsthand. This was how he'd seen teenage girls express their love on tv and in manga, and here it was, right in front of him. It was something that, had he stayed in the world of the living instead of Soul Society, he'd have probably gotten to experience firsthand.

"Thanks, Inoue."

He doubted she'd realize exactly how much that small gesture had meant to him. A simple 'thank you' seemed insufficient. Even as he thought about it, she extended a pair of disposable chopsticks to him with a smile. Ichigo blinked, then took the wooden sticks in hand, snapping them apart easily. As he tucked into the rice, he glanced up and saw Orihime mixing her own box together with what looked like pepper sauce.

"Eh heh, d-do you like it? I've never gotten a chance to make them for someone else before, so I wanted to try!"

"It's great," he said, coming up for air with a slight blush. "Did the kitchen ladies help you?" Orihime smiled as she started to eat. It wasn't a backhanded compliment; the division's kitchen staff were under his jurisdiction, too. If they did a good job, he wanted to commend them.

"They gave me steamed rice, but I did the rest," she replied, shoveling a large pile of rice into her mouth and then shivering in delight. "It's so good!" Ichigo didn't think he'd ask what she put in her bento, but he was secretly a little jealous - he wanted to have that effect on her! Ah, to be a mouthful of rice - it almost sounded like bad love poetry.

As they both ate in comfortable silence, the last of the daylight disappeared. A blanket of shadow fell softly over the hillside as the skies began to twinkle with stars. A few torches were lit on the opposite side of the hill for the party to find its way back later, but they weren't bright enough to cause a distraction.

In fact, Ichigo realized, he'd gotten so used to the nights in Soul Society, with their lack of electrical light, that he'd almost forgotten how deep the darkness got. From the look of awe on his companion's face, he could tell she wasn't used to being able to see all the stars, either; very rarely did she venture out after dark here, and she had lived in the suburbs before she died.

"Not used to all the stars, huh?" he asked quietly, so as not to disturb the other picnickers. Orihime finished her bento and sat it aside, scooting closer to Ichigo as they both kept their eyes on the skies.

"Nuh uh," she murmured, shaking her head, "I only ever got to go out of town on school trips. Well, and that one time I accidentally caught a ferry down the river." Her fingers grazed the back of his hand, sending a shiver down his spine. Surprisingly, she didn't move her hand away; Orihime was looking anywhere but at Ichigo, as though she was just bold enough to touch his hand, but still too shy to look him in the face. Ichigo felt a little tingle of heat spread across his nose. He took it as a sign that he needed to make the next move.

When he moved his hand away briefly, Orihime made a small noise of disappointment. Just as she turned her head to look at him and see what he was doing, Ichigo covered her hand with his and wrapped slender fingers around it. He smiled and nearly burst out laughing when Orihime's eyes met his. He had called her out while she was trying to be sneaky, and now she was even more embarrassed than she had been with the simple brush of fingers. Leaning down, his voice was low enough for only her to hear when he spoke.

"You don't need to sneak, Inoue," he teased, even blowing a little breath in her ear. "You don't even need to ask."

It had the desired effect. Orihime was flustered, but she was pinned to the picnic blanket by her hand. With nowhere to escape to, and not wanting to draw undue attention, she mostly just fidgeted in place. Eventually, her head came to rest on the shoulder of the hand holding hers. Ichigo smiled in triumph as he watched her hide her face against the side of his arm.

"Let's just watch the stars for right now, okay?" he soothed, still speaking only loud enough for her to hear. He felt Orihime nod against his arm, and then turn her head to look up at the sky. Right at that moment, there was a hush over the gathered crowd as the first shooting stars began to fall, shortly followed by gasps of rapture and delight. Even Orihime forgot her earlier discomfort and began pointing with glee.

Ichigo felt something swell within him as he watched her face light up with child-like enthusiasm. It was love, certainly, but it was more. Pride that he'd been able to give this to her; joy because of her infectious spirit; and a sense of nostalgia, that he was finally seeing what he'd been denied all those years. No - they had both been denied it, due to Central 46's meddling.

Well, no longer. There was no longer anything keeping them apart. No more reason for him to hesitate. No more reason to hold back. For one shining moment, while starlight illuminated both their faces, all his misgivings and responsibilities fell away in the face of this new truth; Orihime had accepted him. As the star shower blanketed the sky, Ichigo leaned down and kissed Orihime.

They weren't alone by a long shot. Several of the other couples on the hill had taken the darkness and the distraction of the stars as camouflage for their own stolen kisses. Being under the shade tree as they were, the two of them were especially well-hidden. Perhaps it was this relative guarantee of privacy that caused his impulsiveness. And maybe that was what made Orihime lift a hand to his cheek and reciprocate the kiss. Either way, this was what he had wanted. He was finally home.

"Eh heh," she finally breathed as she moved just far enough away to break the kiss, "You taste like apples." He could tell that Orihime was barely containing her giddy excitement. A smile spread across his lips as he leaned his forehead against hers.

"How long have you wanted to find that out, Inoue?"

It was different now, talking to her like this. His mouth caressed her name, and he loved the way it felt. Inoue, Inoue - he could say it all day. The falling stars faded into the background, largely forgotten. She looked up at him through thick lashes as she answered.

"Since we were fifteen," she replied quietly. Ichigo felt a pang right at his heart, a soft, sad look crossing over his face. All that time, they could have been together. But he had doubted himself, and her, and said nothing. How sad, that only after they both were dead, they might be honest about it.

"Heh," he chuckled ruefully, "Me too."

Orihime gave him a warm smile, then began laughing nervously as tears clouded her eyes. There was no other reaction Ichigo could have but to pull her close and hold her against his chest. She sniffled just a bit, but this wasn't like the other times she'd cried on him. She was happy and he could tell; when he wrapped arms around her, she returned the gesture in a full-fledged hug.

They stayed that way for quite a while. Eventually, Orihime turned to lean her back against his chest, and he cradled her between his legs. Ichigo had leaned back against the big elm tree, using it to steady himself while he supported her. With his arms wrapped around her stomach, and his chin on her crown, they both watched the falling stars - dreamy and enraptured with the sky and with each other. Eventually, they turned back to casual conversation, easily murmured between the two of them, as though their blanket was their own private island.

"Have you given any thought to what you're going to do yet?" Ichigo finally asked the question that had been nagging at the back of his mind for a while. Sure he could hold Orihime now, but if she went to the Shinigami Academy, they'd be separated again - at least for a little while.

"I don't really know," she answered quietly. "It would be great to go to the Academy, but... I wish things could stay like they are now, too. Besides... what I've always wanted to do is to open a bakery." Ichigo perked up at this. She could easily do that while staying with Fifth Division. Seireitei was comprised of shinigami, true, but there were others who stayed there, too. Many of the merchants were shinigami on indefinite leaves of absence, but there were more than a few who had come in from Rukongai, or who routinely traveled back and forth. There would be absolutely no reason for Orihime to go to the Academy if she simply meant to start her own business instead.

"It could be done," Ichigo finally replied. "I could even help you get the loan." He could tell Orihime was uncomfortable with how she shifted just then.

"Mou," she pouted. "I told you, I don't want any special favors." Ichigo snorted in amusement; typical Inoue.

"That's not special, Inoue," he chided. "It's normal for me to want to provide for you. You'd do the same for me." Orihime seemed soothed by this logic.

"I would," she said softly, settling back into his arms. "Do you... Do you really think it would take off? I haven't worked since right after high school..." He could tell there was some regret laced with her words, but he chose not to comment on it.

"With as much work as you put in around the barracks, you could do anything you set your mind to," he replied. It was clear to him that Orihime was searching for a way to be useful and repay them for allowing her to stay. If she had something of her own to put that energy towards, there was no doubt it would be a success.

"I guess I _could_ make treats from the human world," she said thoughtfully. "The shops here don't sell authentic ones... Plus, I know some French and Italian recipes from when I worked at ABCookies..." Ichigo smiled as he watched more stars fall. Orihime firmly seemed like her old self. What was more, she was completely comfortable around him now, content to sit squarely between his legs as though there was nothing at all intimate about it. There was nothing stopping them from being together now. Nothing at all.

Any misgivings Ichigo had – about the bad coping habits he'd developed over the years, about the years of bitterness, or about Orihime's emotional state – were the last thing he was worried about. It was fine to let sleeping dogs lie, right?

"You'd be great at it, Inoue," he reassured her, placing his chin firmly on her head. For the rest of the evening, they stayed just like that on their own little island. They whispered these reassurances back and forth to each other, soothing one another's wounds and getting used to each other's presence. Later that night they would walk back to the barracks together, but for a few short hours their future stretched out endless amongst the stars.


End file.
